Running Free
by dr. kitten
Summary: "Call me what you will, I am not callous enough to leave a dying woman chained in her agony." Julien makes a decision to save a life, but this single act of kindness may prove to be his undoing. Rated T for violence and sexual content. Julien/OC.
1. Prologue

Running Free: Prologue

**Okay ... so I fell in love with Julien, and decided that I wanted to write a lengthy romance story featuring him. BUT I thought it would be too stereotypical to have the romance be between him and the Arisen, since you can get that in the game, so I came up with this. Part of the story will be from Julien's POV, and part from the girl's. This story begins around the time that the Arisen first arrives at Gran Soren, and will run all the way to the end of the game. I made some obvious changes to the structure of Dragon's Dogma, such as allowing the poor citizens to ride horses (duh, Capcom!), and even though it wasn't explicitly stated in the game, I assume that Julien lives at Windbluff tower when he isn't at the capital. Anyway, enjoy and if you are feeling kind, send me a review and tell me what you think! I shall do my best to update with regularity! **

**WARNING: This chapter contains some gory images and implied acts of violence (witch-burning). If this bothers you, please don't read.  
**

_(Julien's POV)_

The wind was bitterly cold that day, speaking of snow in the north. I was all too glad to have finished my monthly inspection of Windbluff and travel southwards to the capital again, where the climate was a little more friendly. In truth, I care not for chill and rain. It may be an odd thing for the Night's Champion to say, but I am a friend to the sun.

My horse was restless under me, champing the bit and prancing sideways. She has the better sense of smell. I thought it was only monsters worried her, and was preparing myself for combat, but there was no need. The road was deserted - almost unnaturally so. The breeze carried with it the smell of dead flames, and beneath that, burnt flesh and fresh blood.

When I came round a bend in the road and all was laid clear before me, I felt a sickening horror in the pit of my stomach. I pride myself on my strong character, and am not repulsed easily by violence, but the sight there was one that I shall never be able to wash from my mind. It was complete carnage.

There was a ring of scorched earth ten feet or more in diameter, and littered with the charred bodies of at least seven people. They were so badly burned - little more than bones - that it was no longer possible to tell their age or even gender. Several were small enough to be women, or young lads.

But the worst of all lay in the center of the ring. A crude pole had been erected there, with a spar crossing it about five feet up. On this, a girl was tied by her wrists. Her head hung down, and her long dark hair shielded her face from my view, but I had no doubt that she was dead. A stake of silver had been thrust though her abdomen and run clean into the wood behind her.

I dismounted from my horse, tying the reins to the branch of a nearby tree lest she spook and bolt. As appalled as I was, my curiosity was aroused as to the nature of the disaster that had taken place here. What had this girl - she could be no older than twenty, probably less - done do deserve such an execution? Any why had it gone so terribly awry for her murderers? For I could only guess that they had meant to burn her at the stake as a witch, and that the fire had escaped its bonds and overcome them before they could flee.

I approached the girl, stepping carefully around the ruins of humanity which lay scattered around her. Taking her head in my hands, I lifted it up so that I might see her face. But to my astonishment, her eyelids fluttered and opened for a moment, fixing me with a blank stare from eyes of the most piercing color of blue I have ever seen. She fainted again at once, but I had seen enough. Whether by some dark magic or by the Maker's love, the girl yet lived.

My thoughts at once fell to preserving that spark of life. Call me what you will, I am not callous enough to leave a dying woman chained in her agony. I was but half-an-hour's ride from Windbluff, and a skilled healer resided there. I resolved to bring the girl back and see what might be done for her.

Taking her from the pole was not as easy as I had imagined, and I very nearly killed her myself in the process. The stake had to be removed first, but when I drew it out, such a rush of blood followed that I became alarmed it would drain every drop in her body. I staunched it as best I could by wrapping my cloak tightly about her midsection, but still it bled through in very little time.

I cut her bonds and carried her to my horse, and I rode back to Windbluff as fast as I could without jarring her. There I left her in the care of the healer, with instructions to send for me if she should awaken within three days time. My business at the capital was pressing, and I rode there with all speed, but my thoughts lay ever with the girl at Windbluff, and whether her tenacity in clinging to life was to be rewarded. But no word ever reached me, and by the time I had to return five days later, I had given up all hope that she had survived.

I thank the Maker than I was wrong.


	2. The Blood in my Veins

Chapter One: The Blood in my Veins

**Aren't you guys proud of me for updating so quickly? I got so excited about this story that I spent all day writing it. I was glad to see that people have already been reading, although no reviews :( ... It's okay, I understand. Anyway, enjoy the update. More will be forthcoming. Oh, and in case nobody noticed, I took the title for both the story and the first chapter from the English lyrics of the DD title screen song, Into Free by the B'Z.  
**

_(Sophie's POV)_

The first thing I felt was pain. My whole body was afire, every single cell screaming out in agony. I couldn't see or hear. I was alone in a dark room with only my anguish for company.

I heard footsteps, and felt ghostly hands touching my face. I looked up and saw a shadowy figure standing before me. I could not see him clearly, or distinguish any feature of his face, but somehow I knew that he was looking at me kindly. Reassured, I fell into a deep sleep.

When I came to my senses, it was to a strange reality. I was lying in a bed with a warm coverlet thrown over me, but I had no recollection of how I came to be there. In fact, I could recall nothing at all. Not who I was, or where I had come from. Memory was a blank void to me. It was terrifying, like lying on your back and staring up at the blue infinity of the sky, vast and unreachable and constantly present.

I lifted my head from the pillow and looked cautiously around. It was a small room, modestly furnished, with walls of stone and a single window slit that allowed a thin beam of light in.

And there was a man sitting by the window, staring absently out. He did not yet know I was awake. He was not familiar to me, but I felt as though I should know him. He was fair, with pale skin and a mane of dark blonde hair swept back from his forehead and falling almost to his shoulders. His face, which I could only see in profile, was keen and strong-featured, certainly a face that could be described as handsome. He bore no arms with him, but by the fine clothes he wore, I knew him to be a noble, and by his musculature, a warrior in peak condition. A knight, then.

I opened my mouth to speak, but only a hoarse croak emerged. The knight turned at once and rose to his feet, crossing the room to stand beside me. He moved with graceful power, like a cat. Indeed, with his hair, he could have been a lion in human form.

"You are awake at last," he said. His accent was thick, but understandable, his voice light and young.

"Where … am … I?" I rasped.

"Windbluff Tower," he replied. "Do not be concerned. You are safe here. I am Lord Julien; this place is my watch."

I was at a loss. He spoke as if he expected me to know of him. "How did I come to be here?" I asked.

His eyebrows creased in a slight frown. "I came upon you grievously injured in the forest while riding south. I brought you back here to be cared for. Introductions beg a proper response, I believe. What is your name?"

Panic coursed through me as I searched and found nothing. "I … do not know. I cannot remember."

Lord Julien's frown deepened. "Do you remember nothing?"

I shook my head. "All is dark to me. I seem to have vague recollections of a face and voice, but it could be no more than a dream." Hopefully, I added, "Ser, do you have any clue as to who I might be or from whence I might have come?"

From the hesitation in his face, it was clear that he knew something and was not eager to tell me of it. "No," he said. "I found you alone. There was no clue."

I lay back with a sigh, filled with disappointment and fear. Lord Julien looked down at me pityingly and said, "You may stay here under my protection for as long as it takes for you to recover yourself. If there is anything you desire, I have left a guard outside your door. Good day." With this curt but generous message, he strode from the room, closing the door behind him.

I lay there for some time, pondering on my strange fate. I felt desperate to have a name by which I might call myself, and decided to invent one if I could not remember the one I was born with. But when I racked my brains, I found that there was one name that came to me: Sophie. Whether it was my own or someone else's I knew not, but I determined to use it nonetheless.

"I am Sophie," I said aloud. It may seem foolish to you, but I felt a rush of pride at having a name, and with it, an identity. Such little comforts are important when you have nothing else.

I lifted up the blanket and looked down at myself, mentally prepared for whatever disfigurement I might see. Lord Julien had said that my injuries were grievous. But it truth, they seemed rather minor. There was but a single bandage over my stomach. Pushing it down, I saw a newly healed scar crossing the skin.

My body was still weak from whatever I had endured, but I was strong enough first to sit up and then to stand. I was undressed, but my underclothes had been left intact. A plain but serviceable gown lay draped on a nearby chair, and I made my way to it with shaky steps and pulled it over my head. It fell to my feet, which were bare.

A bowl of water was nearby, and I stared down into it, eager to see what I looked like. The face that was reflected back at me was not naturally unattractive, although suffering had made it rather ghoulish. My eyes were puffy and ringed with dark shadows. My cheeks were hollow. My hair was unwashed and rife with horrible tangles. I picked at for a few minutes with my fingers before deciding that it would be more practical to cut it off. Fortunately, when I searched the room, one of the items that I discovered was a short knife. With this, I hacked at the mass of hair until it lay in a pile at my feet. The remaining locks came to my earlobes, and were uneven and odd-looking, but I cared not. I washed my head thoroughly in the basin and tipped the soiled water out through the window slit.

Feeling refreshed, I felt a desire to explore my new surroundings. I walked to the door, stumbling only twice, and pulled it open. An armored guard was standing stiffly there, just as Lord Julien had said.

"Pardon me, Ser," I said. "I wonder if I might beg a kindness of you?"

"What do you need, Miss?" he responded stiffly.

"Food and water, if any can be spared. And I should very much like to have an audience with Lord Julien."

"My Lord is taking his evening stroll around the ramparts at this time, Miss. I would be glad to take you to him. Would you like to take refreshment first?"

I replied that I would. I had no notion how long it had been since I had eaten, but my stomach told me that it had been several years at least. I followed the guard down through the tower, which seemed excellently fortified. It the kitchens, he procured some leftover meat, bread, and an apple, supplemented by some hearty herb ale. I ate and drank cautiously, not wanted to overburden my stomach so soon upon arising. The food, although simple, was very nourishing, and I felt much more human by the end of my meal.

We hardly had to go searching for Lord Julien. He appeared in the doorway just as I was finishing up. He showed some surprise to see me out of bed and devouring his supplies, but he said only, "You seem to be recovering well, Miss."

"You may call me Sophie, Ser," I said.

"You have regained your memories, then?"

"No, but that name came to me. It may not be my own, but it will have to do for now." I wavered before speaking my next thoughts, not wanted to take advantage of his courtesy. "Ser, may I speak what is on my mind?"

He gestured for me to go ahead.

"I am in your debt, my Lord, for saving my life. You said that I might stay here until I was able to find my own way, but that would only indebt me further. However … I wish to repay you for your kindness."

Lord Julien blinked and made no reply, and I suddenly realized that he may have perceived a different meaning to my words than what I had intended. Hastily, I continued. "Ser, is there some way in which I might be of use to you?"

There was a spark of interest in his eye. "Perhaps. What are your talents?"

"I know not, but I would gladly train to perform any service my Lord requires. I can be taught to hunt or fight or stand guard."

The spark had increased to a roaring fire, and I knew that he had conceived a plan for me. "You are in earnest?" he asked bluntly.

"I am."

"Then I wish you to begin an apprenticeship to Thomys, the mage in residence here. Learn whatever he may be able to teach you. We will speak again when I return from the capitol in two weeks time."

You must understand that, lacking any direction in which to proceed, I preferred to anchor myself to one place than to face the wide world outside the tower walls, which had little meaning to me. It may seem strange, but having been given a fresh start in life, I was perfectly content to devote it to the man who had saved me. I knew naught of him, save that he was of noble birth and high position. His men spoke well of him. Despite his youth (Thomys informed me that he was in his twenty-sixth year), he was skilled in the arts of combat. He was also a foreigner in the land, having been sent as part of an embassy from his own country three years previously.

Thomys was of an agreeable disposition, and I made rapid progress in my lessons with him. His primary concern, it appeared, was to impart to me spells of destruction. Healing was of lesser importance. It appeared that Lord Julien, having no talent for magic himself, was anxious to have a companion who could cover for his deficiency. My work would be to accompany him in his travels and assist him in any tasks he might have for me. In that respect, I would be very similar to a squire.

By the time Lord Julien returned to Windbluff Tower, I had mastered the basic spells to command fire, ice, and lightning, and was working diligently on the more advanced versions. Thomys, with a certain measure of pride, often compared me to a natural gemstone that he, the craftsman, had hewn rough from the rock and polished to a sheen.

When I demonstrated my newfound powers for Lord Julien, he was quite pleased. He took me out on a few trial hunts - once to route an infestation of goblins that had taken up residence in a nearby village, and once to drive off some snow harpies that were building nests in forest. Being satisfied that I was competent, he arranged for a set of armor and a staff to be crafted for me.

Although I had filled out a little on the good food I was given, I was still scrawny in appearance. This, combined with my short hair, gave me a rather boyish appearance. I minded not, seeing little to be vain of even when I was dressed as a female. But in truth, I think that Lord Julien rather intended that people think me a male. It might have started some unpleasant rumors otherwise.

The night before we were due to travel to Gran Soren, there was a knock on the door of the infirmary, where I had been lodged to segregate me from the soldiers. Lord Julien entered, bearing with him a small packet.

"Good evening, Sophie," he said formally.

"Good evening, my Lord," I replied, wondering what the purpose of his visit could be. He had never before come to see me in private.

"I know it is late," he began, sounding a little awkward, "but I have something of importance to say to you. I will not lie and tell you that my position in the Duke's court is not a dangerous one. I have my own set of plans, and if anyone were to learn of them, it would go ill for me. As a result, I cannot afford to have confidence with people that I cannot fully trust. Do you follow?"

"Of course, my Lord. But … not to sound impertinent, but how can you be sure _I _can be trusted? Even I do not know my own past, or who I may have been affiliated with."

"I know that well," he said. "That is the source of my visit. I have a way to guarantee your loyalty to me, but you must be willing." He set the packet on the table and opened it up. Inside lay two metal bracelets, inscribed with ancient runes. I could feel the power emanating from them like the heat of flame on my skin.

"Do you know what these are?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"They are called "Fetters of Heaven". If two separate people were to wear them, they would be irreversibly linked in the most fundamental way. The wearers would share all, including pleasure, pain … and death."

I had to admit that the idea of being so linked to a man I barely knew gave me pause. Lord Julien must have seen the uncertainty in my face, for he said, with more gentleness than I had expected, "I will not force this on you. You must decide for yourself. But know that once you put them on, they will never come off while you yet live."

"Do you not feel hesitation to bind yourself to me, my Lord?" I asked. "Suppose I should die by accident. Should I not be a burden to you more than a help?"

The ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I have not explained fully. One of the bracelets is dominant. I shall wear that one. Your inner thoughts would be plain to me, but not the reverse. And if you should die before me, my life would not be forfeit."

"I … will do it, my Lord," I said in a small voice. The alternative was to strike out solitary and face the unknown, and the thought of that terrified me unbearably. I held out my left arm.

Lord Julien took my hand in his and slipped the Fetter over my finger and onto my wrist. It was far too large for me, but it seemed to concern him not. He fixed his own Fetter onto his right hand and uttered a word of sealing in the ancient Dragon tongue.

The inscription on the bracelets flashed with light, and I felt a searing pain run through me from my arm all the way to my toes. Gasping, I fell to my knees. I had a brief vision of Lord Julien's face twisted in a grimace before it passed, leaving me gasping. The Fetter had tightened on my wrist, fitting snugly without chafing the skin.

Abruptly, I became aware of new feelings in my body, connected to me and yet not mine. They came from Lord Julien. I felt the ache in his muscles after a day of riding and fighting. I felt the bruise on his upper arm where a harpy's talons had gripped his flesh. And I felt his emotions as well: fierce ambition and disdainful pride, and a desperate longing to reunite a shattered land.

Looking at my master, I could see that he was greatly affected as well. His face had grown pale, and his green eyes were wide. "This emptiness," he whispered. "Is this what you live with? This gulf of darkness, yawning and insurmountable …" He passed a hand across his eyes and seemed to collect himself. "Forgive me, Sophie. I speak out of place. It was a … startling experience. I will bid you goodnight now, and tomorrow we will ride south for the capitol."

He departed in haste, and I removed my clothes and lay down on the bed, feeling drained. But with my new sensitivity, I could feel Lord Julien's restlessness in my very bones throughout the night. He can have slept no more than three or four hours, and very fitfully even then.

The next morning was grey and only half-lit, and the sun opted to hide behind thick clouds rather than illuminate our journey. Lord Julien was in a terse mood, and I stayed silent so as not to irritate him.

But once we were out on the open road, with the whole stretch of miles to Gran Soren before us, I began to feel more cheerful. Whether for good or ill, an adventure lay ahead of me.


	3. Into the Current Again

Chapter Two: Into the Current Again

**All right, next chapter up! I have to admit, this story is getting more attention that I thought it would. My thanks to Daniel the Dragonfly for the encouraging review! I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I had to twist the game's plot a little for the sake of making sense, but I'm trying to keep it as close to DD canon as is possible. As always, I welcome any feedback. **

_(Julien's POV)_

All throughout the long ride to the capitol, I could not shake my ill feeling. Sophie was mute at my side, though I could sense her stifled excitement as strongly as she must have felt my unease. The Fetters of Heaven were potent indeed, just as Fournival had promised me they would be. If I had known quite how potent, I may have thought better of my decision to use them.

But it was not just my discomfort at the bond with my new companion that troubled me. I felt an oppressive sense of doom following after me, as if I rode every step of the way in the shadow of the Dragon itself.

When we reached the old bridge crossing the river, we were stopped by a company of the Duke's soldiers who were relaxing in the shade of a nearby tree. I recognized the man who led them, one Ser Ralph.

"Good day, Lord Julien," he said politely. "Bound for the city again? I'm sorry to tell you this, but the Duke has forbidden anyone to cross this bridge until the royal architects can give it a sounding. We've had reports that it may be cracking. You'll have to use the ford upstream."

I was irked by this, for it meant a detour of several miles. However, there was still time to reach Gran Soren before the light failed us, and 'tis unknightly to take out one's frustration, however justified, on those who are not responsible. I bade Ser Ralph good day, and we turned north.

"Your wound is paining you," I said to Sophie some time later, feeling the twinge in my own gut. "I will have a healer see to you when we arrive at our destination."

Her cheeks reddened, and she looked away from me. She was embarrassed by the attention. "That is not necessary, my Lord," she replied. "'Tis but a mild ache."

"Even so," I frowned. "I will not have you fatiguing yourself without need."

We had been following the river closely, and now the ford came into view between the trees. It was no more than three feet deep in the very center. An easy crossing. I spurred my horse forward.

I was more than halfway across when my attention was caught by a strange blurry patch in the water. Too late I heard the rasping growl, and turned to warn Sophie. The sulfur saurian leaped bodily from the water and sank its teeth deep into her mount's throat. The poor beast screamed and reared up, dislodging her from the saddle. I felt her shock and fear in a sharp jolt as she fell backwards into the river.

I had no choice but to dismount: I could not help her from horseback. She was struggling to her feet already, backing away and raising her staff to begin casting magic.

"My Lord, get out of the water!" she cried. "I am going to use levin!"

Her horse was lying on its side now, paddling its legs and uttering sounds of distress. A stream of blood from its throat swirled in the water. With a mighty blow, I severed the tail from the saurian that was attacking it, and the vile lizard's camoflage failed it. Hissing with rage, it scurried away on all fours, disappearing among a pile of rocks on the far bank.

I could tell at a glance that the horse would not survive. It was too badly wounded. I ended its misery with a heavy strike to the head, wincing at the loss of a useful and good-spirited animal. And all because the Duke cared more for living out his perverse fantasies than for seeing the roads around his city properly cared for.

I had vanquished one saurian, but experience told me that they rarely hunt alone. Therefore, I was not surprised when an indistinct shape suddenly rose up behind Sophie, topping her modest stature by several feet. There was no time to cry out. I lunged forward and shouldered her aside just as the monster struck. Fortunately, I was able to block its speak with my mace. A heavy boot to the midsection sent it sprawling, and I hastily moved in to finish it off. Saurians, particularly of the sulfur variety, are a menace to travelers and wildlife alike. The world is better off without a few more of their kind.

I leaned down and extended my hand to Sophie, who had been submerged for the second time in five minutes. She spluttered some as I helped her to her feet, and said, with the crossness of an angry cat, "You could have said something, my Lord."

"I would have been too late," I replied. "You have had a bad drenching, but your hair and clothes will dry before we reached the city, I think."

"I regret the loss of my horse," she said softly.

"I would have regretted the loss of you more," I replied, quite honestly.

Sophie was startled, although she said nothing. She had expected no more than to be a weapon in my hands, and so she was, but a powerful weapon will still be valuable to its wielder. Good mages are hard to come by if you have not the power to command pawns.

"Let us make haste to reach the capitol before nightfall," I said, turning and wading through the river. My horse, well-trained, had not run far and was contentedly grazing some little ways off. Sophie sloshed after me.

"Why so anxious, my Lord?" she asked.

"Nightfall is the hunting time of all sorts of evil things," I replied. "I have even heard rumors that some sorcerous power calls dead men forth from the grave to feed on the flesh of those who live."

Sophie shivered. "Yes, let us hurry, my Lord."

I caught my horse's bridle, put a foot in the stirrup, and boosted myself up with an effort. It is difficult enough to move swiftly in forty pounds of armor, but I have always found the hardest part to be getting atop my horse.

Once mounted, I looked down to see Sophie staring up at me with her sapphire eyes. I offered her my hand, and when she took it, I pulled her up behind me. She was light, her clothes but leather reinforced by thin sheets of steel, and my horse hardly felt the extra burden.

But I was quite conscious of the quiet presence behind me, a sight too close for perfect comfort. In my country, women are seldom knights, so I had not the experience of relating to them outside of court matters. I was very thankful that my armor provided a barrier between us, preventing me from feeling her warmth or softness.

We made excellent time to the capitol, arriving an hour or more before the gates were shut and barred. The streets were still bustling, and the vendors had not yet closed shop for the evening. I settled my horse comfortably in the stable and walked, with Sophie close behind me, up through Fountain Square to the castle. For some reason, a feeling of awe kept washing over me, and it took me some time to realize that it emanated from Sophie. I turned to look at her. She was staring around with huge eyes, trying to take in everything at once. I could not hold back a smile of amusement at the expression on her face.

"Come along," I said, without sharpness. "We have business at the castle, you know. I have not time to indulge your curiosity."

"I am sorry, Ser," she replied, contriving to look abashed and accusingly disappointed in the same moment.

"Once we settle in," I continued, "I have an errand for you to run. You may explore the city however you desire afterwards, as long as you avoid trouble."

_(Sophie's POV)_

Lord Julien's errand, which he explained to me in painstaking detail, was to go down to the section of Gran Soren known as the Venery, and visit a shop there. The shopkeep, he informed me, would have a piece of paper for me. I was to take it, pay the person for it, and bring it back to him, taking care that I was not observed at any stage.

I set out as dusk was enfolding the city in its velvet wings. My path was lit by a lantern hanging at my waist. My master's direction had been very specific, and I had no trouble finding my way down through the Market District and across the aqueduct bridge. It was a funny thing, but once I glanced behind me and thought that I saw a distant light bobbing in the gloom for a split second before vanishing. But when I looked a second time a few minutes later, there was nothing. I had to conclude that it was a vision brought on by exhaustion and nerves.

I found the shop easily enough. The windows were dark, but there was a candle burning in the very depths of the place. I could see it flickering through the shutters. I rapped on the door and found that it swung open on being touched.

I advanced into the little room, my hand gripping the hilt of the short knife that Lord Julien had provided me with, in case I was ever in a situation where it would take too long to cast magic. But I stopped short only a few steps in, my attention completely arrested by the person sitting before me.

Lord Julien had said nothing about a woman, much less such a stunning one. She was in appearance almost my polar opposite: her hair long, luxurious, and golden, her body full and softly rounded. Her dress was provocative. She looked surprised and let down to see me; clearly, she had been expecting my master instead, and a curious stab of irritation shot through me when I understood that. Who was she to dress up in such a manner for him?

"Are you a late customer?" she asked. "I beg your forgiveness, but the shop is closed."

"The door was open," I countered, my voice low.

"I am expecting someone, young Ser."

"You are expecting me, I think. I was sent by-" I caught myself just in time. "My master. He asked me to fetch a paper from you. Do you have it?"

She held up a little scrap and waved it in front of me before tucking it in between her ample breasts. My face grew hot, and I was glad for the hood which hid me in shadow. Did she play such games with Lord Julien? The thought turned me sick with anger, although I knew not why.

"How will you prove that you are not a spy?" she asked. "Describe your master - ooh!" For I had moved forward and snatched the paper free before she could move to stop me. I gave her no time to protest, but removed the pouch of coins I had been given and dropped it on the table next to her.

"Here is your wage," I said coldly. "My master bids me tell you that the next one is to be ready is eight day's time. Do not fail him."

My errand concluded, I walked swiftly back to the castle. Lord Julien was where I had left him, in his room in the visitor's suite. He nodded approvingly to me when I handed him the paper.

"Thank you, Sophie. It is late, but tomorrow you may have the entire day to do as you will." He stopped short, looking puzzled. "Is there aught amiss? You are put out with me."

I silently cursed the powerful spell that made my feelings plain to him. "No, my Lord. It is only - the woman who gave this to me seemed to be … dissatisfied that you had not come in person."

He gave a short laugh. "Hah! I understand. You suspect me of some base intrigue. Does it upset you, Sophie?"

"No, my Lord," I lied, feeling ashamed of myself. I had no claims on him. What right had I to accuse him of anything?

"Tell me this," he continued. "If I had relations with her beyond the trading of information for coin, would I have sent you in my stead?"

Looking at it in that light, my vague suspicious seemed petty and childish. "I suppose not, my Lord."

"Of course I wouldn't have," he said impatiently. "She is nothing more to me than a source of knowledge. She knows not even who I am."

I was much relieved at the statement, but also oddly distressed. If Lord Julien had no interest in a woman of such beauty, what interest could he possibly have for me?

Realizing were my thoughts were taking me, and alarmed by the direction, I quickly bade him goodnight and went through into my own chamber, which was linked to his by a connecting door. As I washed me hands and face, I scolded myself thoroughly. What was the meaning of it: to first become jealous over naught, then to lament the fact that my master most likely felt no more for me than for anyone else who was of use to him. He had shown me kindness, he had protected me as an investment, but no more than that. And I had no right to want more.

_Do I want more? _I wondered. I knew not. Physically, Lord Julien was a very attractive man, but that held little weight with me. I was not the sort of girl to have her head turned by every handsome man she laid eyes on. More important to me was the sort of person he was, his temperament, his philosophies, his goals. And in that area, I hardly knew him. He was a very private man, and had shared with me no more than he had to.

I lay awake for quite some time that night, thinking and thinking, but my own emotions were a puzzle to me that I could not seem to figure out.


	4. Breathing Life or Death

Chapter Three: Breathing Life or Death

**Okay, sorry about the little wait, but this chapter took quite a bit of work. I had to find a video of the fight between Julien and Mercedes so that I could accurately transcribe all the dialog. Enjoy, and please review!  
**

_(Sophie's POV)_

The next morning, Lord Julien handed me a purse of coins (he claimed the amount to be 10,000, but it was actually three times that much) and told me to go out and enjoy myself. It was a generous reward. The first thing I did was head down to a barber shop that I had observed the previous evening and get my hair trimmed, so it looked a little less ragged. Then, on a whim, I bought myself a real dress, the sort that a high-born lady of the court would wear. It cost most of my money, but I contented myself with thinking of the result when I put it on.

I roamed about the market place a little more, looking at the people shopping. I was just keeping my eye on a boy about ten years old who was definitely "borrowing" small items from various stalls when a heavy hand fell on my shoulder from behind. Instinct that I knew not I had kicked in, and I reached up, gripped the arm by the wrist, and twisted it sharply, turning as I did so to confront the stranger.

He was a shortish man, with dark skin and wiry black hair shaved close to his head. Although I knew I must be causing him pain, he chuckled quite unaffectedly and said, "Whoa there, my pretty. I did not mean to startle you."

"Who are you?" I demanded. "Why have you accosted me in this manner?"

"Oh hoh!" he exclaimed. "They told me you were dead, and they were wrong."

"What? Who did?"

"But not that wrong, hey?"

I released him and backed away. "Tell me what you are talking about _now_!"

The slightly ominous smile never slipped from his lips as he said, "Oh, I'm sorry. Are you … no, forgive me, I must have the wrong person. You look like someone else, is all. Please pay no mind, Miss. Just forget about it."

Something breakable fell to the cobblestones behind me with a shattering crash, and I glanced around. When I turned back, the mysterious man had disappeared.

I tried to put the incident out of my mind, but the formerly innocuous city now seemed to be teaming with hidden enemies. Everyone who looked at me appeared to have some secret motive, some knowledge which I myself did not possess.

I decided to return to the castle. The last stand that I passed on the way there was selling various kinds of food, and my eye was caught by a selection of steaming pies. The aroma rising from them was indescribably delicious. I myself had no appetite after my run-in with the strange dark-skinned man, but my thoughts went to Lord Julien sitting at his desk up at the castle. I knew he had had no breakfast, and I doubted he had eaten lunch either. On an impulse, I purchased one of the pies and carried it up with me, wrapped in paper to keep it warm.

I found him much as I had expected, signing some papers for the addition of a second storeroom at Windbluff. He rubbed his eyes wearily and looked up when I entered.

"Sophie - you have returned earlier than I expected," he said. His eyes narrowed, and he said, "You have cut your hair again."

"How observant of you, my Lord," I replied, genuinely surprised that he had noticed. I hadn't thought it that much of a difference. "Oh, I have something for you." I held out the pie. My master took it and unwrapped it. An expression of delight spread over his face.

"Thank you! How did you know?"

I was baffled. "Know what, my Lord?"

"They are my favorite. In my homeland, they are made specially for festivals. I have many fond memories surrounding these." He took a large bite and chewed with his eyes closed, clearly savoring it. I had to smile just watching his enjoyment.

Finishing the pie in a few more bites, he sat back with a sigh and chuckled. "Yes, as I recall, my brother and I once gathered all of these that we could get our hands on and went on a campaign to throw them at everyone we disliked from the King's court. Hah, when we were finally caught, our father beat us until our backs were red and tied us to poles in the marketplace for the entire day so that everyone might laugh at us. He was furious, but later in the privacy of our own manor, he admitted that we had good taste in our victims." He trailed off into reminiscent laughter.

"You never told me you had a brother, Ser," I said.

His laughter ceased, and he looked quite somber for a moment. I was angry with myself for interrupting his moment of mirth and reminding him of aught that was painful. "No," he said. "I _had _a brother. Rycard was my senior by three years, my protector and confidant. If he was still alive, he would be here in my place now. But he was killed trying to save one of our villages from a drake. His men, terrified, fled and thus betrayed him to his death. So you see why I have grave doubts about loyalty that is not secured by more than human bonds."

"I am sorry, my Lord," I said quietly, not knowing what else I could do to ease his pain.

He stood abruptly, resting his hands flat on the desk. I noticed that there was a scar across the back of the right one, faintly darker than the pale skin. The flesh around it was slightly puckered, as if it had healed poorly.

"Walk with me," he said.

"Where to, my Lord?"

"It is my habit," he answered, "to take a stroll along the walls at this time of day. I would appreciate your company."

I was pleased, even a little flattered, and I knew that he could discern that, not just from my expression, but from the deeper connection which we now shared. That same connection informed me that something was troubling my master. His face remained tranquil, but inside, his mind was a maelstrom of uncertainty and distress.

As we walked along the rampart side by side, looking out over the vast expanse of the city and the fields of long grass dotted with trees beyond the outer wall, there were no words spoken to break the glass silence. We had nearly completed a circuit before Lord Julien turned to me and remarked, "What happened?"

"I beg your pardon, Ser?" I replied, in some confusion.

"Something happened to you when you were out. It's been bothering you." He held up his right wrist just as I was about to ask how he knew. The Fetter of Heaven there glowed brightly for a moment before fading again.

"Ah. It was a strange happening, my Lord. I man I have never seen before - uh … can't _remember _ever having seen before - approached me in the market place and acted as if he knew me. He said some bizarre things, such as claiming that someone had told him I was dead. Then he said that they were wrong, but not that wrong. Then he bade me put him from my mind entirely, and said he had mistaken me for another."

"Pray, describe this man to me," Lord Julien said keenly.

I did so, and he drew in a breath of understanding. "It sounds much like Mason," he said. "He is at the very center of the Gran Soren underground. If the city was a great body, and the streets were its veins, then Mason would be the heart that pumps the blood through them. He knows everything, and what he does not know, he quickly discovers."

"He knows aught of me," I said quietly. "Aught that I myself have forgotten. I want to know what it is, Ser. I …" To my shame, I felt tears stinging my eyes. I forced them away and gulped down the lump that had suddenly risen in my throat. "I want to know who I am. And why I forgot."

Lord Julien looked evasive for some reason and didn't reply. We finished the walk in silence.

For the next month, I saw very little of my master - not because he kept me busy with errands, but because he himself was busy. He spent his days roaming about the town on private business, and only returned to his rooms in the castle when dusk fell, and sometimes not even then.

During this time, I knew that something big was afoot. I had many more dealings with the beautiful female shopkeep (whose name, I discovered quite by accident, was Madeline). I delivered suspicious messages to seemingly random citizens. And everywhere I went, there was one word on the tongues of the people that stood out over the everyday conversations of a busy metropolis: Salvation.

I knew in my heart that Lord Julien had aught to do with them. Rumors flew thick as flies about a masked man known only as the Night's Champion. Someone in the castle, they said. Someone in a position of power. Women whispered tales of a silent knight with golden hair and a wicked gleam in his eyes. Children talked in scared murmurs about the great spiked club that he used to commit his murders. With descriptions like that, who else could it be but my master? I kept my knowledge to myself, of course, but I would not have told even if I hadn't been bound to him. He had not taken my loyalty, he had earned it.

He took me out on a few missions during that month. One of them, oddly enough, was to clear out skeleton warriors in the narrow stone passages of the Catacombs, where the ancient dead heroes of the land were all buried. We found some interesting things down there beneath the earth, including an ogre from which we barely escaped. Lord Julien, being no weakling, would most likely have fought and vanquished the beast himself had he been alone, but I believe that he did not wish to endanger me. A wounded ogre becomes a terrifyingly vicious foe, even more so when driven into a frenzy by the scent of a woman. The brutes have keen noses; no boyish disguise would fool one of them.

After we cleared the Catacombs, I was given a full week of rest before we ventured forth again. An acquaintance of my master's had been attacked by gargoyles on the road and lost something of value - a compromising letter. He needed it back desperately and required the assistance of someone more trustworthy than common soldiers of the realm. And so my Lord and I went into Soulflayer Canyon, the nesting ground of the vile creatures, and very nearly didn't come out alive. There was a particularly frightening moment when Lord Julien was stabbed by the needle-like tongue of the chief gargoyle. The wound was not serious, but his skin turned grey and began to harden almost immediately, and if I had not had an antidote handy, he would have become a handsome statue, frozen forever in the canyon's gloomy depths. My master is a brave man, but even he was trembling afterwards.

We also went out deer-hunting from horseback one day, but that was so tame compared to the other two that it is hardly worth mentioning, except for the interesting fact that Lord Julien is an excellent marksman with a short bow. With my rudimentary sorcery to add a bit of tracking to the arrows, we bagged a total of six deer, all bucks (my master would not hunt does, despite the fact that their meat is commonly tendered). We kept the most impressive to present to the Duke as a small tribute, and sent the rest to Windbluff as supplies.

One morning, I woke late after an exhausting night translating old scrolls and found Lord Julien gone. There was a missive lying in plain sight upon his writing desk, and I glanced at it and saw my name.

_Sophie - _it read,

_I have gone to Windbluff on vital business. Do not follow. If all goes well, I shall send for you. Make yourself scarce - the Catacombs should suffice. _Then there was a line which had been scratched out, followed by the chilling message, _Speak to no one and avoid Mason at all costs. Your life depends on it. Be careful._

It was signed _Julien _with a flourish.

I shivered at reading the note. What danger was my master speaking of? What had he done? I could only guess that he had spent the last month developing a scheme on behalf of Salvation, a scheme that revolved around something at Windbluff Tower. Instantly it came to me that he was planning a coup. To march on Gran Soren with the soldiers of his watch behind him, and topple the city. But what would he get from that? Did he want to usurp the Duke's throne? Such lust for power seemed unlike him.

As I thought about the situation, I was suddenly overwhelmed by such a premonition of dread that I nearly collapsed. It was not I who was in mortal danger. It was him. He had ordered me not to follow, but for his own sake I had to disobey. I had to be there to help him.

I dressed in my lightweight leather armor and gathered all my few possessions together. Regardless of whether or not my master's plan succeeded, it seemed unlikely that I would return to this place.

I sprinted through the city streets to the stables by the front gate, taking every back way and shortcut I knew of to avoid attention. Once there, I saddled the replacement horse that Lord Julien had procured for me and rode out at a gallop, ignoring the guard on the causeway who demanded where I was going in such a hurry.

It was nearly fifteen miles to Windbluff tower, and I'm afraid that I pushed my poor horse rather hard. But even though I sped there as fast as my mount could carry me, I still arrived too late. When I entered the gates of the fort, I saw that a battle had taken place: several bodies lay respectfully arranged: all of them wore the distinctive armor of Windbluff men-at-arms.

I found Thomys sitting nearby, head in hands. To my relief, he was uninjured, but he looked weary from the effort he had expended. He looked up as I approached and said, without surprise, "Lord Julien said I might expect you. He's up at the top."

"What happened here, Thomys?" I questioned him, aghast. "Did we lose?"

My former teacher gave a bitter laugh and said, "Who can be the winner when comrades turn on each other? The men who are loyal to Lord Julien over the Duke were the victors here, but I would not call it _winning_. I just thank that Maker that the battle was over before more blood was shed."

I nodded and turned to go and find my master, but Thomys grasped my hand and said, "Be on guard, Sophie. Two people came here just minutes before you, also asking after Lord Julien. A man and a woman, both hardened warriors by the look of them. I know not what their purpose in coming here is."

Anxiety led speed to my feet as I rushed up the stairs to the top of the fort. I could hear voices even before I reached the peak. The louder one was female, and quite angry. The quieter had the thick accent that marked my master.

"Viper!" the woman screamed. "You colluded with Salvation to word sedition among the Duke's men!"

"Salvation?" replied my Lord. "You place me in ill company. I am a man of this world. Fantasies of death and redemption concern me not one whit." He sounded contemptuous. "Now _legends_ … legends stoke up the masses. If Duke Edmun were to best a second dragon … Gransys would take the ascendant. But her neighbors ill want a giant looming at their borders, am I wrong?"

I heard the clear ring of a blade being drawn from its sheath. It seemed that the situation was quickly deteriorating. I ran faster, my feet slapping on the stone stairs and my breath sharp and painful in my lungs.

"Spare me your sophistry!" the woman cried. "The word 'neighbor' sours on your forked tongue!" I recognized her identity from her voice now; she was Ser Mercedes, the young female knight that had recently come to the capitol from one of the small encampments in the outlands. What had she to do with my master?

"Our lands have long sworn unstinting aid to any neighbor beset by the Dragon," she continued passionately.

Lord Julien's only response was a hearty laugh. "Unstinting, you say? Tell me then … why had your lord father not send your brother, joined by Hearthstone's finest steel? Why am I speaking instead with a bleating she-goat mocked even by her own men?"

He was deliberately provoking her now. I knew the reason why. His knightly honor would not let him attack a woman, fellow knight though she be, and so he was trying to force her hand. Ser Mercedes was not aware of this subtle machinations, however.

"You will retract those words, Ser!" she shouted, her mild accent growing thicker in her fury.

"Else suffer what consequence?" Lord Julien inquired blandly.

"Else I shall wash my honor clean in your blood!"

I was almost at the top of the stairs. A few more seconds …

"And you?" my master called suddenly. "You would play her second? I would welcome the challenge." He could only have been speaking to the man who accompanied Mercedes, but who was that? A warrior of considerable talent, if Lord Julien was excited about the prospect of fighting him.

"Stay out of this," Ser Mercedes hissed. Obviously she did not wish to be defended. "He has made an open mockery out of me and my homeland!"

The next moment, I burst out into the open area at the top of the fort just in time to see Lord Julien block a blow from Mercedes with his shield. He saw me, and I thought that his eyes widened beneath his mask, but he very clearly shook his head at me. He did not want my interference and more than his opponent wanted her friend's.

Speaking of the friend … I glanced at him and could not help staring in shock. It was the Arisen! The man whose name was spoken on every street corner was standing here, in person. He was tall, topping Lord Julien by an inch at least, and unexpectedly young. His skin was tanned from years on hard work in the sun, and I remembered having heard that he began his life as a simple peasant in a fishing village. Now he was a hero of the land, and it was readily apparent why. He had a certain presence, a quiet calm that concealed a stalwart fighting spirit. I found him quite impressive.

But for the moment, I had no time to admire the Arisen. My eyes were tied to the duel. It was no contest from the beginning, and I had to feel a slight stab of pity for Ser Mercedes. She was not without talent, but she was raw and inexperienced, and her anger caused her to make errors. In less than a minute, Lord Julien had her on the ground, her rapier broken and her shield cast aside. He raised his mace to deliver the killing blow.

Quick as lightning, the Arisen darted forward and blocked my master's swing easily with the edge of the massive sword he carried on his back. A nimble twist of his hand send Lord Julien's weapon flying. My lord staggered back, blocking the oncoming attack with shield, but the blow was too powerful. I heard a sharp crack, and felt the pain in my own arm.

Carried by his own momentum, the Arisen turned in a complete circle and cut with the fluidity of a man moving through water. His blade flashed across Lord Julien's chest. The blood came seconds later, a crimson fountain of it, and my master staggered to his knees. A weak chuckle came from his parted lips, and he looked up at Mercedes, who had risen to her feet and was looking on with a pained expression.

"You owe the Arisen a debt of thanks, woman …" he choked out. "Your she-goat's pride is lost, but you kept your head."

With a gasp of pain, he fell onto his side. His mask clattered onto the stone, and his eyes fixed onto me, standing on the other side of the courtyard. His lips moved once, as if he was trying to speak, but then he grew still.

Blackness swirled before my eyes, and I staggered across the bloodsoaked ground to his side. I was barely conscious of crying out, "Master! Master!" as I desperately tried to summon the healing magic to save him. But I was too weak, and I knew with a pang of fear that the Fetters of Heaven were doing their work. My Lord was dying, and I was dying with him.

The last thing I saw before I fainted was the Arisen staring down at me, an inscrutable look on his face.

**Hah, I know, I'm evil for ending it there. But don't worry, it doesn't end here. Next update will be as soon as I can finish writing it. Of course, reviews encourage me to get it out even faster. :D**


	5. I Feel Like Letting Go

Chapter Four: I Feel Like Letting Go

**Apologies, readers. I know it's a bit late and a bit short, but I'll try to have the next one out soon. Thanks for the support, and enjoy the story! **

_(Julien's POV)_

I had lost. I had lost to the Arisen, and the price for it was not only my life, but Sophie's as well. She had come running to me across the courtyard, desperation in her eyes. I saw her slump to the ground, but I was powerless to stop it. My lips moved, trying to form the words that would release her, but my voice was gone, swept away by the blood rising in my throat.

You see, I was not entirely truthful when I told Sophie that once we were joined by the Fetters of Heaven, the spell could never be undone. In fact, it was as simple to destroy the enchantment as it was so cast it in the first place. But I had to be truly sure of her heart before I bound myself to her. And now I was regretting my choice.

Dying was not so unpleasant as I had been led to believe. It was painful at first; a line of fire drawn across my chest, spilling my life's energy onto the stones. But the more I bled, the less I felt. By the time Sophie collapsed across me, I was floating on a soft cloud, surrounded by warmth and comfort. And I felt so tired … it would be bliss to lapse into slumber and forego ever waking again. What need had I of the world when I could sleep for the rest of time?

But then the pain was back, relentless and cruel, tearing apart my dreams. I fought against it, but I was helpless. A strong white light was drawing me out, into a vast sea of agony in which I drowned.

"Julien, open your eyes," said a commanding voice above me. The tones burned against my ears, and I groaned. It seemed to me to be as powerful as the voice of the Maker.

"Julien!" The voice was sharp, demanding. Against my will, I complied.

To my complete amazement, the Arisen was bending over me, studying me with dark brown eyes. Was I not dead, then? But surely it was impossible that I could not only survive a wound of that severity, but feel in perfect health upon awakening. How long had I been unconscious? I turned my head with some effort and looked at my surroundings. I was still at the crown of Windbluff Tower.

"Sophie!" I gasped. Where was she? I felt confused, unsure of reality.

The Arisen put a broad hand on my shoulder and shoved me back against the ground. It was then that I realized that my chestplate, tunic, and shirt had been removed, and I was naked from the waist up. I flushed, being unused to such immodesty, but the man before me seemed to care not.

"Relax," he said. "Your woman is unharmed." Narrowing his eyes at me, he went on, "You know, it is only for her sake that I revived you at all. What were you thinking, using the Fetters of Heaven to bind her like that? What kind of man are you?"

"She agreed to it!" I protested, angry that a relative stranger, even one for whom I bore so much respect, would presume to make judgments on my personal decisions.

"Mm," the Arisen grunted skeptically.

It was only then that the fog cleared from my mind, and I realized what he had said. _Revived … _so I _had _died, and he had used one of those mythical "wakestones" on me. I had never truly believed in their power before, but I could not doubt it now.

All at once, I was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions that I never imagined myself feeling. Shock, embarrassment, relief to be alive … but most of all, shame. Shame that my plan had failed, and I had underestimated an opponent and lost a duel. Shame that the man who had killed me had also been my savior. Shame that if our situations had been reversed, I would have given no thought to doing the same for him.

I mustered all the energy in my body, which felt alarmingly weak and tired, and sat up. Looking down at my own bare torso, I could see the newly healed remnants of the great scar that the Arisen had laid across my flesh. It stretched from my left shoulder nearly all the way to my right hip. The skin covering it was pink and new, and a bit shiny.

I turned my gaze to the Arisen, who was watching me keenly. "I am at your mercy, Ser," I said. "As your prisoner of war, you may do with me as you see fit."

He looked thoughtful. "I will have no hand in deciding your fate, Julien. I lay a choice before you. You may either flee this land in disgrace and wander where you will, or you may return to Gran Soren and face whate'er punishment awaits you there. The decision is yours."

"I will return to the capital," I replied at once. "The other choice is no choice at all. I would rather be dead than live as a cast-out. Will you take me back to the city, as your captive? Or shall I ride in with head high, to turn myself into the garrison for treason?"

"I have other business in the north," said he. "You must settle your own affairs." He stood abruptly and leaned down to offer me his hand. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. Our hands remained clasped for a moment as we stared eye to eye.

"I wish you luck, Julien," he said after a moment, releasing me from his grip. "The Duke has a fierce temper, but with the Maker's love, you may weather the storm of his fury. For my part, I bear you no ill will."

He turned to go, but I called after him, "Wait, Ser! My name and title you know well, but I know you only by 'Arisen'. I would desire to know your true name."

He looked over his shoulder and me. "Gats," he said, and walked swiftly away.

"Gats," I murmured under my breath. "It is fitting. Gats the Wandering Wolf, who passes through war-torn lands unseen, leaving order in his wake. If any can slay the Dragon and unite this land, truly it is he."

A soft moan to my left distracted me, and I turned to see Sophie laid out on a pallet. She had been unconscious up 'til now, but she was stirring. I looked around for my tunic, and saw it lying in a heap nearby with my other equipment. Hastily, I pulled it on. There was a large, bloodstained gash across the breast of it, but it was better than nothing. I could bear to be partially unclothed in the sight of the man who had bested me, but my dignity, wounded as it was, would not allow me to be seen that way before a lady.

Feeling more presentable, I knelt over Sophie and examined her for injuries. She was unscathed, to my great relief. Her dark lashes fluttered as lightly as moth wings across his cheeks, and her lips moved as though she was articulating her innermost thoughts.

"Master," she hissed, a frown building up at her temples. "Master, be careful! Don't let him- no!"

I put my hand on her shoulder, and she snapped awake, staring at me with panicked eyes that slowly faded to pools of wonderment. "You are alive …" she whispered. "How can this be? Unless … we both are dead?"

I shook my head. "No. We stood on the threshold of death, perhaps, but by the will of the Arisen we have returned."

"The Arisen?" She looked confused. "Why would he save us when we are his enemies?"

"He did it for your sake, I believe," I answered. "I received quite a scolding from him for using these." I held up my wrist and shook it slightly to indicate the Fetter of Heaven that encircled it.

"I don't see why _he _should care," Sophie remarked caustically.

She fell silent as I stared straight into her eyes and said, "But he was right. I should never have tried to bind you so. My incompetence nearly cost you your life."

Sophie blinked. "I am still alive, my Lord."

"Yes, but that is not the point," I said impatiently. "What about next time? And the time after that? I can see now that my decision was foolish, and I have no alternative but to break the spell."

"But I thought … you can do that?"

"Yes. I told you a lie, because I believed it to be the only way of proving your sincerity. Forgive me, Sophie." Closing my eyes, I uttered the three words in the Dragon language that would end the enchantment: _nahk eit nahta: I release you. _

The Fetter on my wrist glowed white-hot in response to my incantation, and vines of agony shot up my arm. It felt as though flames was climbing steadily through the blood vessels and nerves in my arm. Judging by Sophie's cry of pain, she was experiencing the same.

The fire cooled, and when I looked down, the bracelet was gone. In its place was a thin stripe of blackened skin. I was conscious of the slight weight missing from my wrist, but more than that, I was aware that I was once again only a single entity. The bond that had linked me to Sophie was gone. I was unsure whether the heavy feeling in my chest was relief or disappointment.

"It is over," I said. "You are free of me, free to do what you will. You may stay here as long as you need to, you have earned it."

"What of you, my Lord?" she asked, her face expressionless. "Will you no longer have me as a companion?"

"I cannot let you follow where I am bound. I mean to turn myself in the Duke as a traitor, and surrender to his justice."

She did not move or speak. After a minute I turned and walked away, collecting my armor and weapons to give to Darius, my second-in-command. I did not say farewell.

_(Sophie's POV) _

There were a thousand things I wanted to say to my master before he left, but my voice betrayed me and would not utter even a single word. Chiefly I wanted to thank him, for saving my life and giving me a reason to continue living. I longed to run after him, to knock him senseless, if need be, and prevent him from following through with this sudden madness which seemed to have overcome him.

But - curse my soul! - it was as if I was turned to stone. It was only after he had ridden through the gates, still sitting tall and proud on his horse's back, that the tears unfroze and came pouring down my cheeks. I rushed to the battlements and caught the barest glimpse of him in the road below. His golden hair shone brightly in the sun. I cried after him, "My lord, wait!" And then, when he showed no sign of hearing me, "Julien!"

But it was to no avail, and I sank to the stones, sobbing bitterly. I did not want believe that he was abandoning me to go and rot in the Duke's dungeons. But want to or no, I had to face the truth. He was gone, leaving behind a gap in my heart. As I realized that, I knew for the first time that I loved him.

I know not how long I sat there, shedding tears onto the impassive rock. Eventually, I fell into a kind of trance, staring blankly ahead. When I came to myself again, the sun was setting, and dark shadows were reaching across the sky. Somewhere in the north, I heard the harsh, beautiful cry of a hunting griffin.

I looked down at the dark scar on my wrist where the Fetter of Heaven had once been. That scar would mark me for life, and as long as I lived, I could never forget the man who had given it to me. He may have cut me free and set himself to drift, but he could not prevent me from coming after him.

And I would never let him go.


	6. Be Sure to Drink Your Iodine

Chapter Five: Be Sure to Drink Your Iodine

**WARNING: This chapter contains a brief passage involving mild sexual assault. If this is upsetting to you, please read no further. Otherwise, enjoy the story! **

_(Sophie's POV)_

It took me four days to recover from my death-and-subsequent-resurrection experience, and another full day after that for Thomys and I to come up with a suitable plan for the rescue of my foolhardy former master. It was this: Thomys and I would ride down to Gran Soren in the characters of an elderly magician from Hearthstone and his niece who was seeking employment in the Duke's service. We would be in disguise, naturally. I prepared myself by purchasing some blonde hair dye from a traveling peddler, and wearing boots with thickened soles to make myself appear taller. Wearing a patched grey dress and with a bonnet to cover my hair, the change was remarkable. I didn't even recognize myself, so I was convinced that no one in court would know me either. Of course, it helped that most of them had thought me male.

Once we arrived, Thomys was to use his influence to get me a position of servitude in the demesne. I was then to bide my time, making myself useful to the nobles, until I got my chance to free Julien. Thomys would provide what support he was able from outside the walls, keeping two horses ready for our escape.

I was quite nervous when at last I stood before Aldus, the Duke's chamberlain, my eyes cast down to the floor with appropriate humility while my heart beat fiercely against my chest. But I needn't have feared recognition; he hardly glanced at me before agreeing to take me on for a trial period of one month.

I soon learned that my plan would be harder to pull off than I had imagined. For the first three days of my employment at the castle, I never so much as went near the dungeons. I don't think I would soon have gotten the chance, either, but for the lucky coincidence of one of the junior cooks coming down with a vile case of Goblin Spots. I was reassigned from cleaning floors and washing laundry to the kitchen, where my primary duty was to prepare meals for the prisoners in the dungeon. Strictly speaking, I was not supposed to deliver the meals that I made, but I quickly observed a streak of laziness in the woman who had the job, and pretended a desire to be helpful to her and allow her to rest her feet. Thus it came about that on the eve of the tenth day since Julien had turned himself in, I shuffled down to the underground cells bearing a tray of thin, warmish soup and stale bread.

There were four little rooms, all of them dank and cheerless. The first two were occupied by a sour-faced slave and an unfortunate gardener, respectively. My poor master was in the third, opposite the empty one.

I saw at a glance that they had been most unkind to him. Well, that is putting it gently. To tell you the truth, I nearly dropped my tray in horror when I saw him through the bars. He was chained by the wrists to the wall, and the iron manacles had chafed his skin terribly. But worse that that, he was slumped over in exhaustion; his hair, filthy and matted, hung down over his unshaven face. His shirt, which clung to his back, was stiff with dried blood. And he was so frighteningly thin, little more than a skeleton with skin stretched over it. Had they not fed him?

I got my answer to that right away, as I reached for the key that would unlock his cage. The guard's heavy hand fell on my shoulder, and he said rudely, "No food for him, wench. Ser Jakob's orders."

I looked up at him with what I hoped was an alluring, innocent face. "Why, Ser? What has he done?"

A look of surprise crossed his brutish countenance. "Do you not know, girl? I thought everyone had heard. This man is Lord Julien, formerly master of Windbluff Tower. He plotted with those damned Salvation freaks to overthrow the Duke. He's a filthy traitor who isn't fit to breath the same air as the rest of us."

I bit my lip until it bled to prevent myself from crying out, "He is ten times the man you could ever be, you mongrel dog!" But I knew that my only chance to save my dearest friend and master was to be clever. So I channeled some of my fury into what could possibly be mistaken as indignation, and said, "How could he! The very nerve of it! Ser, might I have your permission to sit in front of his cell and eat his meal for myself? It would surely teach him that we loyal folk won't tolerate any of his ilk."

This idea clearly tickled the guard, for he grinned slowly and said, "Aye, you may do as you will, girl. But don't be too long about it. I'm not supposed to let any loiter here."

"Thank you kindly, Ser," I fluttered, trying to sound like an impressed country girl. It was hardly easy when all I really wanted to do was spend the next ten hours sealing the man in a block of ice, thawing him out again with a blast of fire, and repeating the process ad infinium.

Mercifully, the guard had other duties, and left me in peace. As soon as he was out of sight, I pressed up against the bars and whispered, as loudly as I dared, "My lord Julien! It is I, Sophie!"

His only response was a slight jerk of his head. I knew not whether my voice even reached through the cloud surrounding him.

"Julien!" I repeated, dropping all honorifics. This time he didn't even move.

It was a bad situation. I knew that two things were necessary for his survival, and imminently. First, he needed some food in his stomach. They must have allowed him some water, or he would not be alive, but I knew he could not last longer. Already, he had shrunk to a shadow, a wax copy that was manifestly the same and yet somehow unrelated to the man I loved.

The bowl of soup broth was too wide to squeeze between the bars, and I could not have gotten it to him anyway, but I slipped the piece of bread through and dropped it on the ground. Then I looked hard into the corners of the cell and listened for the tell-take rustling and squeaking of rats.

I must digress a little from my tale to say a word or two of explanation about magic. All magic originates from dragons, who are the masters of it. We human beings who are gifted in such matters use their words, in combination with a staff or rod that focuses and directs our power. As you may well know, one of the most difficult magics to learn and control is the art of ascendancy, or the domination of other lifeforms. I had worked a little on this, outside of Thomys's thorough but limited teachings, and, although I could not claim complete mastery, I could use it to the extent of manipulating small animals.

Every dungeon has its community of rats. They thrive in the damp and dark places where humans loath to tread. There was a nice fat one in the corner of Julien's cell, gnawing on the cap of a slimy mushroom, and I reached out to it with my mind, spoke the words that would force it to surrender to my will: _nahk urirur nahta na vassa: I am your master. _

The rat's limbs grew stiff and its hair stood straight out as a red glow encompassed its plump, furry body. It resembled, rather amusingly, a pincushion stuck full of grey pins. I could feel it struggling weakly, but my hold was too strong, and its own soul retreated to the back of its mind. Suddenly, I was seeing through tiny eyes.

In the body of the rat, I scurried across the expanse of the cell floor and seized the bread in my teeth. I looked up and saw myself, slumped against the bars, my eyes wide and unseeing.

I brought the bread to Julien. He had not quite lost all his mental faculties; he recognized me and realized what I was doing. I look of feral hunger came into his eyes when he saw the bread, and he leaned down as far as he could, ignoring the cruel bite of the chains around his wrists.

As I fed him, I fervently hoped that he would not contract any ill humors from the unclean creature I had drafted. When the last bit of food was gone, I released my hold, which was beginning to fade on its own, and returned to my own body. Julien, piercing me with his hawk's stare, whispered a word of gratitude.

"Hold on a little while yet, my Lord," I mouthed. "I will get you out of this foul place."

I intended to cast some healing magic, but the guard returned unexpectedly, and I had to cancel my spell. I was ushered away. My last impression was of Julien staring after me with desperate eyes.

I went down to the prison again the next day, but the guard was different. This dismayed me at first, but it turned out to be an advantage. This man was of a more moral character, and obviously sympathetic towards the captives. He allowed me into Julien's cell, under close supervision, so that I could feed him by hand. The soup, thin and poor as it was, did him far more good than the stale bread of the day before, and I fancied that there was a bit of color in his wasted cheeks by the time that I left. The entire time I was there, he said not a word to betray my disguise, but his eyes never left my face.

The day after that, Thomys came to see me in my rooms. He brought with him a little crystal bottle of clear liquid, which he said he had purchased from a man by the name of Mountebank, a specialist in tricks and deception. If drunk from, he explained, it would cause a state of unconsciousness so deep that it appeared to be death. It wore off naturally in an hour, and the drinker suffered no side effects.

It occurred to me instantly - as it must have occurred to Thomys - that I could give Julien this potion in his food, and spirit him away while the guard ran for help. The only consideration was how I, a small woman, was to carry him out of the palace grounds in broad daylight under the eyes of whoever might be watching.

But I listened to gossip and the talk of the castle residents, and within a few days I had heard rumors of a secret passage somewhere within the dungeons that supposedly communicated with the sections of the city known as the Aqueducts. After a few secret explorations, I determined that it must be in the unused cell across from Julien's. The lock on this one was different from the others, but Thomys brought me some magic keys from the same vendor who had supplied him with the crystal vial. These were called skeleton keys, and allegedly had the power to open any door, no matter how complicated the lock.

That same day, I set my plan in action. With Julien's health to consider, I could afford to wait no longer. He had improved some since I had arrived, thanks to a few healing spells I was able to cast on the sly, but he would surely waste away and die - as was the Duke's intention - if I was not quick about saving him.

After dinner, I brought the tray down as usual, fed the other prisoners, and proceeded to Julien's cell. But I did not reckon on there being another there first. As I approached the door, I heard a quiet voice that I recognized as belonging to the Arisen. What was he doing here? I could not make out his exact words, although his tone was kind and reasonable, and I leaned closer.

The stamp of mailed boots just behind me caused me to jump, and a bit of the soup I was carrying sloshed out of its bowl. Turning, I saw a tall, thickly-built man with a face that suggested that he was a descendant of ogres. There was cruelty in every hard line of his flesh and sadism in his thin smile, but his eyes were the worst of all. They were like wicked black beetles, constantly moving two and fro. They fastened onto me, and I felt my skin crawl.

"What are you doing down here, little bitch?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft and honeyed. I worked to loosen my tongue, which seemed to have stuck to the roof of my mouth.

"I b-beg your p-pardon, Ser!" I stammered after a moment. "I w-was just c-coming down to f-feed the p-prisoners."

"Not the traitor, I hope," he said silkily. "My orders were specifically that he not be given food under any circumstances. You wouldn't dream of disobeying me, would you, my dear?"

I shook my head so fervently that I became dizzy. My heart was thumping in my breast, and I realized that I was terribly afraid. I had not felt fear like this before, even when faced with all manner of bloodthirsty beasts.

The man, who I knew must be no other than the infamous Ser Jakob, reached out and caressed my face with the back of his hand. His beetle eyes glittered in the torchlight as he said, "You are a lovely bitch, aren't you? A chit like you could do a lot for a man, yes?"

I backed away, only to feel my back come up against the solid stone wall. I was trapped, with no way to escape. Ser Jakob blocked the stairs out.

Without any warning, he grabbed me by the throat and pressed up close against me, knocking the tray to the floor. Broth soaking into my shoes, but I noticed not. I was too busy trying to push the brute away from me as his horrible face came closer, inflamed with lust and fury. I felt like I was burning up under his gaze; his hot breath made me feel sick in my stomach.

"Please, Ser," I began, but my words were abruptly cut off as his mouth closed over mine, his tongue pushing between my teeth. I wanted nothing more than to bite it off, but the strong hand that squeezed down on my throat prevented me from doing so. I knew that if I made any move to resist him, he would strangle me with ease.

So I did the only thing that I could think of; I closed my eyes and allowed my body to go completely limp, as if I had slipped into a faint. His sour mouth left mine, and he stepped back, not even bothering to catch me. A sharp pain ran through my hand as I landed on it, and I barely restrained a gasp.

Ser Jakob stared down at me for a few moments, with - I imagine - a look of disgust on his face. Then he spat on the stone not more than an inch from my face, spun on his heels, and strode away, leaving me lying there.

I was too shaken to rise for some minutes. Indeed, I may even have fainted for real, for the next memory I have is of steady hands lifting me upright, and a concerned male voice saying, "Are you hurt, miss?"

I opened my eyes. The Arisen was looking at me, his handsome features creased in a frown. I blinked a few times to clear the terrifying vision of Ser Jakob's face from my mind, and said, "No, Ser. Thank you. I must have become weak for a moment."

"Have we met, miss?" he asked, as he raised me up with no more trouble than if he were picking up a kitten.

"I know you, Ser," I said, quite truthfully. "Perhaps you have seen me about the castle. I am new in the employ of the Duke, Ser, but I know most of the regular visitors to the court by now."

"Indeed? What is your name, pray, if I am not too bold in asking?"

I almost replied, 'I am Sophie', but recalled my alias just in time. "You may call me Irmina, Ser."

"Irmina," he repeated. His eyes narrowed as if he suspected me of deceiving him, but he made no further attempt to get information from me. "I am Gats," he said. His callused but nevertheless gentle hand ran over the sore skin of my throat, and he scowled. "That false knight Jakob did this to you, didn't he? By the Maker, some day he will pay for his crimes."

"I am alright, Ser," I assured him. "I just need to rest a while."

"I will escort you to your room," he said gallantly. As a matter of fact, I was cursing his chivalry at the moment, since it meant the complete loss of any chance I had to rescue Julien that day. But I dared not protest, lest he renew his suspicions of me. I allowed him to lead me quietly away.

The next morning, I awoke with a painful and inflamed throat. Looking in the mirror, I saw a line of ugly bruises where Ser Jakob's hand had been. I was grateful that I had one high-necked dress in my wardrobe; it would not do to be seen about the court like that. People would ask questions, but rather than leading to Ser Jakob's much-deserved arrest, if they led anywhere it would be to my dismissal. I am sure that I was not his first victim among the castle servants, nor would I be his last. I pitied any female prisoner entrusted to his care.

There was no one in the dungeons that day but the kindly guard, who smiled upon me as if I had become a friend of his. I never bothered to learn his name at the time, but when I inquired later, I found that it was Ser Antony. He was the truest form of knight, pure and charitable to all equally, and it pains me to report that he perished in the storm that was soon to come. He died honorably, defending his charges to the last as the city fell in ruins around him. But enough of that, I am relating a part of the story that is not yet come.

As usual, Ser Antony opened the door to Julien's cell for me and stood by while I fed him from the bowl of broth. He made idle conversation about his young son, who played at being a knight, and his hometown in the south where it was warm all year round. His chatter was soothing to my broken nerves.

Within a minute of drinking the broth, Julien's eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped forward without a sound. I wished that I could have given him some warning, but it was impossible with Ser Antony watching me like he was. I cried out in a pretense of alarm, throwing up my hands and gasping, "Maker guide us, what is wrong with him?"

I believe that Ser Antony never suspected me of a trick. His heart was so clean that he could not imagine deception in any other, let alone a poor servant girl. He placed his fingers at Julien's neck to feel for a pulse, frowned, checked again, and said in an urgent tone, "Stay here with him, Irmina. I must go for a healer." He disappeared at a dead run.

I had very little time to effect the rescue. Using the skeleton keys, I unchained Julien. If he had not been half-starved, I don't think I ever could have lifted him, but he was light and frail, and I was granted the strength of desperate need. I slung his arm around my shoulders and staggered out into the hallway.

A quick twist of another key in the lock of the cell across the way laid it open to me. The escape tunnel was cleverly concealed to appear as part of the wall, but I knew where to look for it. There was a slightly raised stone among the cobbles on the floor, and when I rested my full weight upon it, the wall slid open. I stepped through, dragging Julien with me, and the doorway closed behind us.

Of the subsequent frantic race through the sewers of the city, I shall say very little except that it was extremely unpleasant. The water-drenched stones down under the castle are infested with all manner of loathsome creatures, all of them poisonous. The worst were the spiders as large as a knight's shield. They scurried after us in the gloom, staring blindly with multiple milk-white eyes. Once or twice, I blundered into cobwebs as strong as any rope, and only freed myself with a blast of fiery magic.

But as last we were out, stumbling into the pale, watery daylight of the aqueducts. Faithful Thomys was waiting for me at the entrance, with two horses on the cliff-path just outside the lower gate. Together, we got Julien up on the larger, and tied him to the saddle. I swung up on the other, bid my loyal friend and confederate farewell with a tearful kiss, and took the reins of both horses in my hands.

Whither we would go from here, I knew not. But the wind was blowing strong, and the taste of freedom was sweet in my mouth. I turned to the north.


	7. Nothing to Slow me Down

Chapter Six: Nothing to Slow me Down

**Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, but inspiration was a little thin. Of course, reviews help immensely with that. For every review that I get, my affinity goes up! Soon you'll be getting an escort mission from me. I want to go to the Healing Spring, okay? I'm offering Chapter Seven as a reward, along with copious amounts of thanks. **

_(Julien's POV)_

My dreams were of dark halls and running blindly from something huge and horrible that followed me closely, but always just out of sight. I wanted to know what it was, but I did not dare retrace even a step of the way I had come, for I knew without a doubt that the moment I did so, I would be killed. And so I had no alternative but to continue fleeing down corridors which had no end, but grew ever and ever smaller the further I ran. And I last I reached a point where I was too large to fit through the gap, and I turned to face the demon that pursued me. I could hear it coming round the bend, a great blast of fire preceding it. It scorched my face and made me turn away with a yelp of pain.

I opened my eyes. My first observation was that it was nighttime, my second was that I was outside, in the open. I could see the faint shadows of trees around me from where I lay. I was covered in a warm blanket, and there was a friendly little fire cracking nearby. It was this which had woke me when I rolled too close to it.

"Good evening, Ser," said a familiar voice off to my left. Turning my head, I saw Sophie, sitting with her back to a tree and her knees pulled up to her chest. Her staff lay beside her, within easy reach.

"Sophie …" I murmured. "What dream is this? Am I not in the Duke's prisons?"

"No, Ser," was her reply. "We are in fact in the fields just south of the ancient quarry, where the stone to build Gran Soren was hewn from the mountain's breast."

This was a lot of information for me to process with my hazy brain. "And how came we here, pray?" I asked.

"You may well be curious, Ser, for you would remember none of it," said she. "It was done while you slept away from a magic potion. I beg your pardon for the use of such crude means, Ser, but I needed some way to break you from that awful place before it was the death of you, and that is what fate provided."

"Then I see it is you to whom I owe my freedom," I said.

"Thomys and I did it together," she replied, generous as always.

"But I do not see Thomys here with us."

"No, he was unable to accompany us. Our destination, Ser, if you are agreeable, is the Great Encampment in the Barta Crags. It seemed to me to be a place suitably far from the Duke's reach, where we could live in comfort for some time if necessary."

"I have no objection," I said, "but I am at a loss to understand this development. I do remember seeing you while I languished in that cell, but I thought you nothing more than a mirage who spoke kindly to me and banished some of my pain."

A secret smile crossed her lips, and she said, "No mirage, Ser, but a woman of flesh and blood."

"But why did you not leave me to my fate?" I persisted. "I had no hold over you. You were a free woman. Why bind yourself again, needlessly?"

She stared at me in silence for a long time, and showed no sign of being inclined to answer. At last I gave up and said, "Well, whatever your reasoning, I am grateful to you. You have healed my wounds, too, I see. Thank you."

She blushed at my words, and turned her head away. "It was nothing, Ser. I am glad to see you awake, at least. I had begun to worry that my humble skills were not enough. You were treated most wretchedly by your imprisoners."

I blinked back invading memories of the tortures I had undergone at Ser Jakob's hands. I owed that man a lot of pain, and I would be revenged upon him at some point, even if I had to march back into the capitol in arms to do it.

But for now, the thing that concerned me most was food. Sophie had hunted down a cow from one of the herds that roamed freely through the plains around Gransys, and from it we had an ample store of excellent, tender meat. It tasted heavily of campfire smoke, but after several long weeks on broth alone, I was not disposed to complain of any solid fare.

Having eaten my fill, I lay down and was almost immediately asleep again. Recanting the tale now, I feel ashamed that I did not offer to take watch and allow Sophie some rest. No doubt she had been under as much strain as I. But suffering makes one selfish, and I would have been little use as a guard in any case. I think that, tired as I was at the time, I could have fallen asleep in a drake's nest.

I awoke the next morning feeling more myself. I had neither armor nor weapons, having been stripped of my possessions by the Duke's men. Most of all, I regretted the loss of my shield, which was an heirloom from my father and had always served me well. But once again, Sophie proved to be well worth the trouble I had gone to for her. She had somehow procured for me a loose-fitting suit of steel armor, a simple wooden club with iron spikes jutting from it, and a shortbow with an admirable supply of arrows. I felt a tenth of the knight I had formerly been, but at least I was not defenseless.

We dared not use the main road, for I had no doubt that agents of the Duke were on the lookout for us. So we make our way north by degrees, traveling through the woods and brush. We had many adventures along the way, most of them not worth telling, but I shall lay out some of the finer points for your amusement. One of the worst moments, though no doubt you will laugh loudly to hear of it, was when the pair of us were captured by a goblin war party who were intent on roasting us and feeding us to a Cyclops to gain his trust. We narrowly escaped through a combination of wits, strength, an unexpected rain storm, and Sophie's magic.

After the incident with the goblins, which was unnerving to say the least, we took more care in choosing our camping spots. Occasionally, we found deserted shacks or rest camps along the road, where we were offered a free tent. Once, we happened across an abbey deep in the forest, where the nuns were kind enough to let us stay the night. Imagine my surprise when I took a stroll around the grounds and midnight and heard a deep rumbling noise, only to have my ankles seized by rotting hands coming up from the earth below me! My cries of horror brought Sophie running out from the church with a lantern, and by its tremulous light we saw four or five decaying corpses which rose from the ground and shambled towards us, groaning as if reliving their own deaths. It was one of the few times when I have seen Sophie literally frozen in fear. I was of half a mind to hightail it back to the church and lock myself in, but I stood firm. It would not do to show cowardice in front of a lady, especially one for whom I have such high regard.

We left the cursed abbey the very next day at dawn, forded the river, and began to climb higher into the hills. The going became rougher then, and we were in constant danger of falling to our deaths. We avoided the path because of the gangs of female bandits that inhabit the region, and have a reputation for preying on passing male travelers.

On our second day out, we had to abandon our horses and go on foot. After an hour's climb, we reached a deep cleft in the mountains, only to find that our way was blocked by a massive ruined fortress. The gate, unfortunately, was the most solid part of it, and was firmly locked and bolted. The mountains on either side were sheer and treacherous. Thus we faced the prospect of either foraging ahead into the territory of the infamous bandit queen Ophis, whose hatred of all men was legendary throughout the land, or turning back and attempting passage through Soulflayer Canyon, which had very nearly been the death of us before.

It was then, although I cringe to tell of it, that Sophie concocted the following scheme …

_(Sophie's POV)_

It is hard to imagine Heavenspeak Fort unless you have been there in person. The once-great tower, now worn down with time and warfare, sits huddled like a rheumatic old man in a narrow notch in the mountainside. There is only one way in and one way out, and they are closely guarded by the murderous women who have made it their home. No intruder, unless he is invisible, makes it past their discerning eyes. However, they are not unfriendly to fellow females, and will tolerate and even help them if they feel inclined.

Our problem, obviously, was Julien. It is said that the hatred Ophis bears for men is so great that she is sworn to attack and kill any man that she lays eyes on. This is no exaggeration or mistruth. And as she is a strong warrior in her own right, and her followers are many in number not to be played with lightly, it was apparent that we could not force our way through.

Several options remained to us. We could try to skirt around, taking a perilously thin ledge around the side of the mountain and so up from there, but it was getting towards dark, and we had no place to stay the night. Needless to say, trying such a climb in the daylight hours was quite trial enough; at night, it would be nothing less than suicidal.

There was a cyclops of epic girth and spiteful temperament guarding the regular road up to the castle gates, and for a little while, we debated the possibility of using ourselves as living bait and trying to get him into smash through the gate by accident. But this was also quite risky. Not only was it possible to die under the club of the 'clops, but we had to factor in the possibility of attack from the fortress wall above us as well.

Julien had just suggested using the last of the daylight to climb back down to the forest below and trying the mountain path the next day when another idea occurred to me in a flash. It seemed to brilliant that I marveled I had not thought of it before. Julien, although a very handsome and knightly man, had nonetheless a slight softness about his face and an average enough build that he had the potential of passing for an extremely masculine woman if dressed properly. And I had just remembered that I had purchased a very fine dress back in Gran Soren, a dress which was rather large for me.

Julien, naturally, was horrified by my sudden notion to disguise him as a member of the opposite sex, and insisted that he'd rather face dismemberment at hands of the cyclops or break his neck on the mountain.

"So you would rather die in a man's clothes than live in a woman's?" I asked, feeling rather irritated with his prudishness. After all, I had suffered myself to be assumed a boy for his sake; could he not do as much for me? When I had thrown this light on the matter, he at last submitted with much complaint.

I have said that the dress was too large for me by several sizes, but even so it was a tight fit for Julien. In the end, I had to removed a few seams and do a bit of creative embellishment. I even added some padding to the chest area for additional realism. With his hair fluffed and hanging down about his face and a bit of color added to his lips and eyes, he made a pretty picture indeed. I was tempted to make a quick sketch for posterity, but I refrained lest I further damage his delicate pride.

Thus attired, we scrambled up onto the cliff and made our way boldly towards the fortress. We had as yet seen no sign of life, but we knew the bandits to be masters of keeping hidden in their chosen terrain.

Sure as truth, we had gone no more than ten paces when a voice rang out from the seemingly blank hillside to our left. "Halt!" it cried. "Who dares trespass in Ophis' Domain?"

"We are but poor travelers seeking shelter!" I responded, looking discreetly around for the source of the voice, who remained completely hidden to my eye. "I am called Sophie," I continued, "and with me is my friend, Julia."

Julien, a few feet behind me, winced noticeably.

A warlike woman dressed in a small amount of red leather and steel stepped from the bare rock of the mountainside, where she had been hiding in complete invisibility only a few moments before, and prowled slowly round us, taking in our dusty faces and empty packs.

"Come inside," she said brusquely. "Lady Ophis will decide whether to show you mercy or no."

We followed her up a flight of stairs and into a large common room where at least thirty bandits - all women of various race, age, and size - were eating, drinking, talking, laughing, gambling and fighting with one another. In the very center of them was a proud black-haired warrior, her face and bare arms baring the testimony of many bloody battles.

Our guide took us straight to this woman and bowed low before her. "Ophis," she said, "these are travelers seeking our help."

Ophis glanced over me as though I was a speck of dusk floating in the air and fixed her eyes upon Julien. She looked immediately interested, and I suddenly recalled that besides being mighty in battle and clever in wit, she was notorious as a lover of women. Unfortunately (under the current circumstances, at least), Julien happened to fit into all three of her preferred categories: tall, blonde, and muscular.

Ophis rose to her feet with the grace of a hunting cat and stalked past me to stand in front of my poor friend, who looked as though he was debating the virtues of fight versus flight.

"Dear me," said Ophis. "Two poor girls lost alone in the mountains. Where are you coming from, pray, and what is your destination?"

"Oh great Ophis, we hail from Gran Soren, and we are headed to the Greatwall Encampment," I broke in hastily, lest Julien forget his role and speak, thus betraying himself.

The bandit queen gave me a sour look which clearly stated, _I was not speaking to you, worm. _"What would you ask of me?" she continued.

"Just food and shelter for the night," I replied.

She reached up abruptly and stroked her hand down Julien's face from temple to jaw. I shivered with irrational jealously, and was more than reasonably glad to see that Julien was more disturbed than excited by Ophis' attentions. He took a step away, glaring at her, and she returned the favor with an icy frown.

"My friend Julia is very shy," I interjected quickly, suddenly afraid that she might be offended and refuse us aid, or even attack us.

"Does you friend Julia also have no voice?" the bandit queen asked. "Or does she employ you to do all her talking for her."

I thought quickly. "My lady, she has spoken no word since her husband killed her little girl and tried to kill her. It was most traumatic."

Julien gave me what was quite possibly the blackest look I have ever received, but Ophis' eyes softened and she said, "The both of you may stay as long as you need. Girls, make sure our guests are outfitted with clothing and supplies, and see to their every need!"

She strode away, her steel-soled boots clicking on the stones with a brisk rhythm. We did not see her again during the hours that we spent there, but we were treated as blood sisters by the bandits, who showed us every courtesy imaginable.

Julien slept very close to me that night, all the same.

We departed Heavenspeak the next morning, laden with enough food to feed an army. No sooner were we out of sight of the walls than Julien gripped his dress and tore it off with a violence that suggested the deepest dislike. He was still wearing his pants underneath (he had refused to relinquish those), but I turned away with reddening face all the same. When I looked back, my expensive dress lay in rags at his feet, and he was breathing hard, with the satisfied expression of a man who has conquered a bitter enemy.

"You needn't be so foul-tempered about it, Ser," I pointed out crossly. "It saved us much time and trouble, at very little expense."

"Do you call my dignity 'very little expense'?" he snapped. "I have never been so humiliated!"

I recoiled from the anger in his tone. I hadn't realized he would take it that much to heart. To my shame, I felt hot tears filling at my eyes, threatening to spill over. I bowed low to cover my sudden emotional weakness, and said, with a barely-detectable tremor, "I am sorry, Ser. Please forgive me."

Julien looked astonished, and it occurred to me that he had not meant to speak so harshly to me. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words of apology changed abruptly to a cry of warning.

Before I could even react, I felt a massive blow to my side, which lifted me off my feet and sent me flying over the edge of a rocky cliff nearby. I fell about five feet or so until by the most fortunate happenstance, my booted foot became entangled in a protruding root and I came sliding to a halt, too stunned to feel any pain or fear.

I heard Julien cry my name, but his voice was drowned out by a fearsome combination of deep growling, strident hissing, and the bleating of a goat. I knew at once what had attacked us: a chimera, a beast of legend that lurked in bedtime tales used by vexed mothers to frighten naughty children. I had never seen such a monster, although I had seen its effect on the land. Men bitten in half, or mauled beyond recognition; women and children eaten whole; cattle and horses slaughtered wantonly. I heard Julien's voice raised in a battle shout, and I knew that he was facing the creature down. The thought made me faint with worry for him, but I could do nothing to help. My head spun, and from the difficulty I was having with drawing breath, I was positive that several ribs had been cracked. In addition, I was dangling upside down by my foot, with nothing but a thin root keeping me from plunging the rest of the way down the cliff, probably to my doom.

And so I hung there, listening to the frightful noises from the cliff top and thinking that I would never see my friend again. I suddenly wished that I had been bold enough to tell him of my true feelings for him. It was unbearable to me that he should die without ever knowing how much I cared for him.

The sound of battle came to a sudden halt, and only the whistling wind made any sound in the barren white crags. Then there was a rustling, and a few pebbles came clattering down past my head. I heard them splash somewhere far below.

My first thought was that the chimera had not been sated yet and was focusing its energies on devouring me next. I kicked at the root that held me with my other foot, figuring that death by falling was infinitely preferable to perishing between the jaws of that foul beast.

But as I looked up, I saw something which brought hope and joy back in a great flood: Julien's face peering down at me. A nasty cut on his cheek was dripping blood, but he appeared to be otherwise unscathed. He was lying on his stomach, one arm stretched down in an attempt to reach me. Even with his wooden mace in hand, he was a half-foot too short.

"Don't move, Sophie!" he gasped. "I will get you up. Just stay there-"

Then the root gave way with a sharp snap, and I plummeted downwards in a shower of dust and stones.


	8. My Mind is Racing and Wild

Chapter Seven: My Mind is Racing and Wild

**Hi all! You can thank ConspiringDarkness for the wonderful review that inspired me to spend my entire evening writing this chapter. I am officially glowing purple now. So, can we go to the Healing Spring? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I cranked the heat up a bit. Let me know what you think!**

**WARNING: This chapter opens with a bit of goblin sexual violence. Don't ask. Not too severe, I promise. **

_(Sophie's POV)_

I could hear voices all around me, speaking the language of humans, but somehow alien and strange - the voices of goblins.

"Fine catch, Grimbolt," said one, in a high nasal pitch. "We'll 'ave good eatin' tonight!"

"You'll eat what I say to eat, Bugbelly, and not one bite more" snarled a second. His voice was deeper and more authoritative, but it had an edge of violence to it that made me think its owner would be a savage creature indeed.

"Aw, let us 'ave a bit of fun, Bonebiter," whined a third voice, submissive and pandering. "We 'aven't tasted womanflesh in a year or more, and she looks like an uncommon good 'un. Young and juicy, just 'ow I like 'em!" This last comment was punctuated by a wet sound, as though the speaker had licked his lips.

It also gave me the uncomfortable feeling that the 'womanflesh' under discussion belonged to me. I opened my eyes, but my vision was obscured by a dirty grey cloth sack which had been pulled over my head. It was rather stifling under there, and breathing was a chore. I struggled to free my hands, but they had been bound behind me by scratchy ropes.

"Look, it's awake," said the nasal one with the unflattering name of Bugbelly. "The fire's high; let's get started. We can 'ave it roasted in no time."

"Shut yer trap," shrieked Bonebiter, who I had to assume was the leader. "I've got a special plan for this 'un." He brought his mouth close to my ear, and I could actually smell his foul breath through the sacking. It was reminiscent of a plague-ridden rat that has been dead for a month in shallow water.

"Human female," he hissed, "do you know where ogres come from?"

That was an absurd question, and I didn't bother answering. I figured - correctly - that I was about to hear that answer anyway.

"There are goblin women and human women both," Bonebiter continued. "When goblin men breed with goblin women, they made goblin children. When human men breed with human women, they made human children. Good eating, those," he added gleefully.

I knew where this little biology lesson was going, and I liked it not at all.

"But there are no ogre women," Bonebiter said sadly. "They have to take human women instead, but poor stupid ogres, they just kill them and eat before they can have fun. No ogre women, so where do all the ogres come from? Do you know, human female? They come from you, when you mate with a goblin! You won't survive the birthing, though. Ogres are born hungry. They need to feed. And they make their mother their first meal."

Then I felt his rough, clawed hands running down my stomach, and a spasm of fear and horror went through me. _Oh Maker, kill me right now, _I thought. _Please, don't let me fall foul of these beasts. Anything but that. _

"Yes, yes, yes!" Bonebiter chuckled, amused at my terror. His cronies cackled along with him. "You will make a fine mate, human female!" He gave a loud crow of triumph, which was suddenly cut short by a whistle and a thud. Something heavy fell on top of me, and I felt a stick-like object poke me hard in the thigh. I screamed, but it came out through the sack as little more than a muffled whimper.

The goblins were panicking, in the manner of their kind, running in circles and screeching about the revenge they would visit upon their attacker. Disoriented and sick as I felt, I could make nothing of the situation, expect that I wished it to be over soon. I did not even care much if I survived. Recent events were foggy in my mind; I remembered the chimera attacking, and being frantically afraid for Julien. And then … falling for a long ways. After that, nothing at all.

Before long, I heard twice more the same whistle and thud which had been the herald of Bonebiter's death. The other two goblins fell silent as well. I was just pondering the oddness of this turn of events when I heard running footsteps which rapidly approached me. Urgent hands groped at my bonds, wrenching them loose with little regard for how chafed and sore my wrists were. Then the sack was torn from my head, and I blinked and winced in the harsh northern sunlight.

"Sophie! Thank the Maker you are alive and unharmed!" It was Julien, of course. I felt that 'unharmed' was an unnecessarily optimistic appraisal of my current condition, but 'alive' at least was no less than truth.

I groaned ungratefully and struggled to focus my eyes on his face. He had not bothered to clean or bandage the wound from the chimera's claws, and it was red and oozing blood still, not yet fully scabbed over. His clothes and hands were caked in the white soil that covered the crags all round us. He had his shortbow beside him, and a quiver on his back.

"Where are we?" I slurred. My tongue felt like a fat slug in my mouth. I was desperate for a drink of water, or anything even remotely damp.

"I know not," Julien replied, helping me sit up. He kept his arm supportively around my shoulders while I rubbed my sore wrists where the ropes had rubbed the skin away. The feeling of the blood returning to my hands was not unlike thousands of red-hot needles stabbing into my flesh.

I looked around. Bonebiter, Bugbelly, and Grimbolt lay sprawled in various positions, each with an arrow through his head. As I have said before, Julien is a terrific shot.

The goblins had made their camp on an island in the middle of a shallow lake with ink-colored water. Vapors rising from the surface gave it an evil, noxious appearance, which was only strengthened by the corpses of several fish floating belly up in the deepest part.

The camp itself was littered with bones and other remnants belonging to the goblins' victims. Most of them, I grieve to say, were human, but there was a deer hide and some antlers nailed to a tree, which also sported a decent collection of fluffy white rabbit tails. The cornerstone of the gruesome collection was the feathered head of a snow harpy. The eyes had been gouged out, and the mouth was open in a silent wail.

Julien's voice broke into my cloudy thoughts, and I turned to look up at him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark with anxiety.

"What?" I asked.

"Are you ill?" he queried. "You have not been answering me."

"Oh no, I feel perfectly well," I replied sarcastically. "I've only been knocked unconscious and tied up by a group of depraved goblins who intended to have their way with me. Why should there be anything wrong?"

I knew that my words were foolish, and that I was wrong to provoke him when he had come to my rescue, but I couldn't help but think him a bit insensitive if he had no inkling of how I felt at the moment. I was therefore extremely surprised when, instead of making a sharp retort, he gathered me up in his arms and pressed his face into my hair, saying in a choked voice, "Forgive me, Sophie. I am at fault. I should never have let this happen to you."

Needless to say, I was astonished by this display of remorse from a man who always seemed so righteous and unbending in his path. More amazing yet was the tenderness with which he held me, a softness that I had not thought possible coming from him. I could feel a few drops of water on my scalp, and if he had been any other human being, I would have thought that he wept, but that was impossible. I could not but choose to believe that a stray raindrop had fallen from a perfectly clear sky and landed directly on my head. And indeed, when he drew back and I could see his face again, his eyes were utterly dry, with no sign of the deep emotion which I had heard in his voice.

With a little bit of explanation, the whole story was laid before me. When I had fallen over the cliff, smote by the chimera's great paw, Julien had been in despair of my life. His fury had leant him strength, and he had killed the lion part of the beast with a single blow from his mace, which shattered its skull and broke its neck. The goat put up a more impressive fight, summoning a nasty fireball that would have incinerated my friend if he had not taken refuge behind a convenient boulder. Then of course he had to contend with the snake, which writhed around in a rage, doing its best to bite him with poisoned fangs.

Once the chimera was dead, Julien had rushed to the cliff edge to see what had become of me, only to find me hanging there. As you remember, he had done his best to reach down and pull me up, but fate had other plans, and he had looked on in horror as I fell fifty feet to the bare rock below.

Now comes the strangest part of the tale. According to Julien, and I quote him directly: "As I watched, a cloud of blinding white light seemed to surround and cradle you. It slowed your fall, so that you came to rest sleeping soundly but quite unhurt on the rocks below."

I know not what to make of that. I have since spoken to magicians and priests both regarding the experience, and they are of different opinions. The priests believe that mysterious the light was a visible sign of the Maker's love and protection, and that he guided me gently down in the palm of his mighty hand. The magicians, on the other hand, have told me that the power most likely came from inside of me, triggered by my imminent death. The sudden drain, they say, exhausted me and made me fall into a deep sleep.

Well, I care not which explanation is the truth. I was glad enough to have been spared.

We must now return to poor Julien, stranded on top of the cliff while I snored away at the bottom, quite unaware of his predicament. He would not leave me there, but he dared not make the same descent, unaided as he was. If he chanced to fall, it would have been quite fatal. He was forced to take a more tedious route, which required an hour of his time. By the time he reached the place where I had lain, I was gone.

By examining the tracks left in the dusty soil, he determined that I had been carried off by a group of goblins. He tracked them to the aforementioned island, where he arrived just as they were about to begin their cruel revelry. He snuck across to the island (my assumption about the lake proved to be correct; a person had merely to touch the water in order to be afflicted with a set of deadly debilitations. Luckily for us, there was a series of stepping stones that afforded a relatively safe crossing.) and once there he concealed himself behind a rock and waited for the right moment to strike. The rest you know.

I was still shaky on my feet, so Julien carried me back across to the lakeshore, where we sat for a while and ate from the supplies we had been given by the bandits. The crags around us stretched on indefinitely, beautiful and lonely and wild. Far far up, the Great Wall stretched at an angle across the mountain's face, and at its feet, the tents of the encampment huddled, small and insignificant in the shadow of the great peak. I felt a sudden longing to stand on that peak, with the wind gusting through my hair, as free as the hawks that circled high above.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I said to Julien. For some reason, I no longer felt the need to address him as a superior. Out here, in this untamed country, he was not Lord Julien. He was not my master or my knight. He was just a man, a single speck of existence in the vast world.

"Yes," he said. "It is beautiful." Then he looked at me for a long time, and I saw something in his eyes that I could not explain. It was a kind of muted passion, a spark of intensity and desire carefully shielded and dampened, but burning fiercely nonetheless. I knew then that that little flame burned in my honor, and at my whim I could either extinguish it forever, or fan it into a roaring inferno.

_(Julien's POV)_

How could I tell her? How could I put what I felt into words? I barely understood it myself. I had experienced this extreme fervor before, but only in the pursuit of my own personal goals, never in relation to another person, much less a woman. In truth, I had never given a thought to the fairer sex, finding them superfluous, distractions at most and occasionally downright destructive. I have known many good men who were lured down the wrong path by a woman's wiles.

I used to take a lot of abuse from my fellow knights for my inclinations, or lack thereof. The insults I bore ranged from mildly insulting to near unspeakable. The one that stuck most prominently in my homeland was the nickname given to me by my fellows: the 'virgin knight'. I will not contest the truth of that title, but neither do I feel shame for it. I was as proud as any girl-child to have kept my virtue and not lost it as my compatriots did to the first tavern wench I met. The one thing I could not bear was the insinuation that I cared not for women because I was more interested in men. The one knight who dared say that to my face, I left lying on in the dueling ground with a broken head.

When I came to Gransys, no one knew my history, and I was blessedly free of the joking, good-natured and otherwise. I allowed myself to grow close to no one, so no one could say for certain what I did in my private time. I remained contently alone, locked behind a barrier which none could breach, and I never imagined that it would change.

I didn't anticipate Sophie. From the beginning, she was a random element in my life, a loose end that I could not tie down. At first I thought only of helping her, but then, when she asked to be used, I made up my mind to do just that, without regret or attachment. I grew to rely on her, even to like her, but nothing more.

Everything changed when I fought the Arisen. I had always believed myself to be pure of heart and deed, but his words after he revived me cut me to the heart. _"It is only for her sake that I revived you at all," _he had said to me. _"What were you thinking, using the Fetters of Heaven to bind her like that? What kind of man are you?" _

Well, I was indignant at the time, but later I saw the stark reality of the matter. Sophie had placed her life in my hands, and I had treated her as cavalierly as I would a weapon, to be wielded against my enemies and then thrown away when it bent or broke under the strain.

When I left Windbluff to turn myself in to the Duke, I meant never to see her again. I felt an ache in my chest then, but it was bearable. After all, I was a doomed man waiting to die. What right had I to feel anything for the woman I was leaving behind? There was one moment when I thought I heard her voice crying after me from the top of the tower, and my heart clenched in my chest, but that was soon forgotten as I prepared myself for the pain and disgrace that I knew was awaiting me at the end of my journey.

But she came after me. She pulled me forth from that pit of misery and despair, and gave me new life as I had once done for her. I could hardly fathom it. What attachment could she have for me, who had been nothing more to her than lord and master?

Or perhaps that was enough. I knew nothing of the ways of women, having always shunned them. Now that I am wiser, I know that love in its most untainted form cannot be bound by any chains, no matter how strong, or stopped by any wall, no matter how high. Love will always prevail.

And that day, when I thought her lost to me forever, I knew that I loved Sophie as truly as any man had ever loved a woman. I am not given to flowery declarations, so I will explain myself thus: my heart was no longer my own, in much the same way as the Arisen. His heart belonged to the Dragon, but mine belonged to Sophie.

But at that time, I was just a young and foolish knight who had looked at the world though the eye-slits of a helmet and thought that I had seen everything. And now at last I felt love in its rawest incarnation, and I was completely lost, a tiny ship tossed on a stormy sea. What was the proper course of action in this case? Should I shower her with gifts and woo her with tender phrases? She I fall to my knees and beg her to take me as I was, flawed and faulty? Should I attempt to seduce her? I knew not what brought her pleasure. At that moment, I realized my greatest fear: that I would lay my soul bare before her and she would turn away. The mere thought of such an occurrence sent such a stab of pain through my heart that my breath caught in my throat.

"What is it?" Sophie asked sweetly. "Is your wound troubling you? I am sorry; I should have looked at it sooner."

She reached out to examine my cheek (I had forgotten that the scratch even existed), but her touch was electric. I bolted to my feet and said, "Can you walk yet? We must go if we are to reach the encampment by dusk."

She scowled, but made no complaint as she stood. But the short rest and sustenance had not been enough to restore her strength, and she stumbled. I caught her before I could think about it. Then, seeing little other choice, I lifted her up in my arms once again - she was as light as a feather - and began the long hike towards the stockade.


	9. Are We Making Progress?

Chapter Eight: Are We Making Progress?

**Wow, longest chapter yet! I was really excited when writing this one, and ended up delaying the part I was originally going to include at the end. Well, you'll just get to read it next time. By the way, I am so grateful for all the reviews! This story has gotten more attention in the last couple days that it has in the whole time since I first published it. All that praise makes me blush and dance around, really! Keep it coming! And please enjoy. **

_(Sophie's POV)_

The soldiers who manned the Greatwall Encampment must have been used to receiving refugees; they never asked us for our story. Only our names and whether we were staying or passing through to Hearthstone. Then they assigned us a tent, which we shared with an old couple and their infant grandson. They had fled from a bloody war in the north lands. Their manner of speech was foreign to us, but we got on well once the initial introductions were made. The woman - Brynhild, aged at least sixty - made quite a fuss over me, crying and asking with hand gestures to brush my hair, which was beginning to grow out. I discovered later that I reminded her strongly of her daughter, who had been killed by marauding soldiers.

That night, Julien sat up talking with Sarbjorn (the old man) into the early hours of the morning. Their discussion, as far as I could tell, was mostly of the war, and which of the northern warrior tribes would claim the victory. I shared a blanket with Brynhild and little Elfryk, who I admit was a novelty to me. I could not remember having seen a child so young before, and I found him quite enchanting. His wispy blonde hair, which carried a soft fragrance quite indescribable; his large, solemn, long-lashed blue eyes that followed me around the tent; the small contented noises he made as Brynhild rocked him and fed him milk from a hide bag, which had a cow's teat sewn on to simulate a mother's breast. I shyly asked to hold him, and she placed him in my arms. He was surprisingly heavy for such a little thing, and incredibly warm and smooth.

Brynhild showed me how to make him belch and spit up some of the milk, the necessity of which I did not fully understand. But he seemed quite content afterwards, and fell asleep in my arms, while I rocked him back and forth, and Brynhild sang a lullaby in her own language. Her voice was high and quavering, bringing to mind wind and snow. Listening to it, with the babe in my arms, I felt a curious sensation that I could not at the time fully understand. It was a kind of longing, deep in my gut, so sudden and sharp that it was physically painful. I glanced at Julien, and caught him staring at me with a strange half-smile of his face that quickly disappeared when he met my eyes.

The next morning, I had ample reason to curse the cold as I stumbled to the latrine at dawn, hopping through a foot of fresh snow and blowing out gusts of steamy air like a winded horse. It took me several minutes to work up to courage to splash my face and hands with frigid water from a basin half-crusted in ice. Finished with that, I raced back to the tent again and arrived breathless, with cheeks stung red by the wind.

Julien met me coming out, and we walked to the bonfire in the center of the camp, where the other residents were already ladling bowls of salted gruel from a cauldron over the blaze. The air smelled smoky and acrid, and it burned my lungs as I inhaled deeply.

"We must turn our thoughts towards acquiring some clothing more appropriate to this climate," Julien remarked as we accepted our rations and squeezed as close to the fire as we could get without singeing our noses.

I nodded, my mouth full of gruel. It was not ideal fare, to be sure, but it was warm and filling, and I was grateful for it.

"We will pay a visit to the merchant after we eat," he decided.

"I have no money," I reminded him, but he brushed this off, saying that he would pay for my share. I thanked him earnestly, but he waved that away as well.

"It is no more than I owe you," he said.

But good clothes don't come cheap, and in the end, what little coin he still possessed would only pay for two shoulder-wraps made of direwolf pelts. My hands and feet were near frozen solid when I returned to our tent. Brynhild noticed me rubbing my bluish appendages, and produced a pair of fur-lined leather boots and a matching set of gloves, which fit me as if made for me. She told me that they had belonged to her daughter, and that she kept them as keepsakes, but that she wanted me to have them now. I couldn't thank her enough.

Refugees were expected to earn their place in the camp by laboring, and the soldiers were overjoyed to have a man of Julien's capabilities. Strong young men were few and far between, and the ones that did come through did not stay for long. He was set to work at once repairing a section of the stockade wall that had been crushed by a recent boulder slide from higher up the mountain. It was heavy toiling, and he sweated a good deal, but he performed his duties wholeheartedly and without shirking. At midday, I brought him some tea made from a spicy mushroom that grows in the north and is said to be an instant cure for frostbite and other ailments of the cold.

As for me, I spent my day with the other women, mending the soldier's uniforms. I was clumsy with a needle and thread, but I learned quickly, and after an hour, my line of stitches was nearly as tiny and neat as anyone's. In the afternoon, I helped prepare a roast pig for the evening meal. Then Brynhild and I took Elfryk for a walk around the outside of the encampment. It began to snow while we were out, and we made a game out of catching the flakes on our tongues. We rested for a little while under an overhang of the cliff, and she taught me how to change the cloth wrappings around the baby's waist when he soiled them. She washed him clean with a handful of snow afterwards, and instead of whimpering, he giggled and waved his hands. Truly, he was a child of the winter.

"When you tell man?" Brynhild asked suddenly, her wrinkled face creased in a smile as she looked at me.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked, unsure of her meaning. What man was this, and what was I supposed to tell him?

"Man," she repeated. "With you."

"Oh, you mean Julien?"

Her smile grew. "Yes, yes. When you tell him you like?"

Once I had worked this out, I blushed brightly and looked away. "Um, it doesn't work like that, Brynhild. I can't just … tell him."

"You no like?" she asked anxiously.

"No, no, I do. I like him very much," I reassured her. "But in my land, women don't tell men when they like them. Well, sometimes they do, but people don't think much of that kind of woman."

She nodded in understanding. "Man say first."

"Yes, that's right." I hesitated for a moment. "Is it that obvious that I like him?"

She shook her head, smiling and saying, "What mean?" She did not understand my question.

I tried again. "You know I like him? How?"

Brynhild laughed and patted my cheek. "You see him, face go pink. You like him. I know."

Rapid footsteps crunched through the snow outside our little shelter, and a moment later, Julien emerged out of the swirling whiteness, his face taut and pale. I jumped at his sudden appearance.

"Sophie, the guard at the gate said I could find you out here," he began. I could tell from his voice that something was wrong.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

He glanced at Brynhild and then back at me. "Come quickly," he said. "There was an accident. Some of them men were shifting a large rock, and it moved the wrong way and trapped Sarbjorn's leg underneath. He is in need of your healing magic. Can you come?"

"Of course!" I said, jumping upright. Brynhild looked around in worried confusion. She had gathered enough of what we were saying to know that something bad had happened to her husband, but she had no idea what, or how serious it was. I put my hand on her shoulder and said, in a patient, measured voice, "It's all right, Brynhild. I will help Sarbjorn. He will be fine."

"You help," she echoed. "Go."

Julien grabbed my hand and we dashed back to the front gate together as fast as we could manage in the thick snow. My friend led me straight to the scene of the accident, where a group of men were crowded around in a tight knot. Julien pushed his way through with me in tow, and I knelt down beside the old man, who was white as a sheet and rigid with pain. He was amazingly brave, however - he made not a sound when I felt at his leg.

It was in bad condition. The boulder, a gargantuan piece of jagged white rock from the mountainside, had rolled onto his right leg and crushed everything below the knee. I knew at once that I had not the skill to heal it entirely. I looked up at Julien, who was standing above me, waiting for directions.

I took a deep breath, dreading the words that I was about to speak. "We'll need to amputate his leg. If we do that, I can stop the bleeding, but there's no other way. Can someone tell him what's going on?"

One of the other refugees was a northern scholar who was fluent in both our language and his mother tongue. He crouched by Sarbjorn's head and translated everything I said in a deep, rich voice. The old man squeezed his eyes shut and spoke a few faint words.

"He says to do what you need to do," the scholar told me.

The operation was done quickly and efficiently. With one swing of his sword, the head soldier severed the shattered leg at the knee. Sarbjorn never made a sound. I had already begun to conjure my healing energies, and I quickly applied them to his wound. It sealed up in a heartbeat, although I knew he must still be in terrible agony. When I was finished, two of the men carried him to his tent, where Brynhild hovered over him, tending to his every need. I held Elfryk and comforted him. He was a sensitive babe and seemed to realize the mood in the tent, for he was restless the entire night.

Sarbjorn recovered with great speed, showing the resilience for which his people were so well known. In a few days, he was up and limping around with the help of a crutch. He thanked me a thousand times over, although I felt deserving of none of it. Had I been a truly great mage, I could have spared him his leg.

Perhaps it was just my imagination, but over the next week, I came to believe that Elfryk was becoming genuinely attached to me. When I held him and crooned to him, his hearty wails ceased as if turned off by magic. When I spoke to him, he chuckled and showed his single pearly tooth. When I was in the tent with him, he followed me around with his baby blue eyes, as if he found me the most fascinating creature on earth. His favorite thing was when I used minor magic to light candles or make things float.

As for Julien, he was a mystery to me. He seemed to go deliberately out of his way to speak with me, such as asking me unimportant questions or remarking on trifles which could be of interest to no one. He made attempts to be helpful to me, offering to bring me food or whatever else I needed. Sometimes I would notice him staring at me with an oddly meditative look on his face. I have to say that I enjoyed the attention. I had never (in my truncated memory, at least) had any such favors lavished on me before, and I found it refreshing.

But unlike other men who are courting their woman of choice, he wasn't very blatant about it. And since I was a monumental coward about encouraging him, we mind have continued in that curious half-romance indefinitely if unusual circumstances had not forced a sudden alteration to our relationship.

I remember well the day that both our lives changed irrevocably.

It came about like this: we had by that time been at the encampment for almost a month, and Julien, with his vigorous nature, had already done the work of three men in his improvements of the settlement. Mostly by his efforts, the stockade wall had been greatly strengthened, a new firepit had been built and lined with grey slate carted up from the valley bottom, and a safer path had been constructed to allow the men access to the only unpolluted spring in the area, a half-mile away in a narrow ravine. He was just beginning to clear the ground for a second tent area when the commanding officer in charge of the camp showed up and ordered him to take a vacation before he worked himself to death.

The first I heard of it was when he appeared, tired and sweaty, in the door of the tent where was feeding Elfryk, and asked if I desired to accompany him on a hunting expedition into the valley.

"By horse or on foot?" I asked.

"I was thinking foot," he replied. "We wouldn't be trying for any large game, just a few rabbits or a bird perhaps. Nothing that we couldn't carry back on a sled."

"I would love to go," I said, quite honestly. We hadn't been alone together since our arrival at the camp - sharing a tent with others is not conducive to such situations - and the idea of sharing an outing with him was favorable to me. I asked him to wait a moment until I could finish Elfryk's meal and lay him down for his midday nap.

"You know, it is a natural look for you," he remarked, gesturing to the child in my arms. I blushed deeply, filled with a strange joy at his statement.

"Do you think so? I am fond of him. He's such a loveable little thing."

I laid the gurgling, heavy-eyed child in his nest of blankets and made sure he was securely enfolded so that he wouldn't roll out and hurt himself. Then I pulled on my warmer furs and went to tell Brynhild of my business. After that we set out, Julien toting his shortbow and a good supply of arrows, while I pulled the light hide sled with its ogre-bone runners.

We walked a long way before we saw any sign of game, although the time passed rapidly in light, easy conversation. We stopped around noon for a meal of dried meat and hardtack, supplemented with a thermos of hot tea, and rested for a while on a precipice overlooking a steep slope and a knife-like valley below. I was on the point of suggesting that we turn and head back to camp when Julien, who had been reclining against a rock, suddenly sat upright with an expression of keen concentration.

"Look there!" he cried, pointing down into the valley below us. I squinted along his finger and saw an immensely fat pig rooting around at the base of a berry bush, totally oblivious of us, fifty feet or more above it.

"That beast would provide food for everyone for at least a week," he whispered to me.

"It's a little heavy for the sled, isn't it?" I replied in alarm.

"I'll drag it back; you can carry my bow," he said. There was a gleam in his eyes, and I could see that his mind was made up. With the stealth and silence of a practiced hunter, he rose to one knee, notched an arrow, pulled back all the way to his ear, and let fly. His bolt flew straight and true, and buried itself in the boar's spine, right at the base of its neck. It gave a single, indignant _oink _and dropped dead, speckling the snow with droplets of blood.

"Beautiful shot!" I commended. Julien looked rather satisfied with himself.

"Shall we ride the sled down?" he suggested. "It'll be quicker."

I looked at the near-vertical slope and thought that I had rarely heard worse ideas, but I did not wish to appear weak-hearted. He gallantly volunteered to sit in front so that I should not be hit by any spray of snow and rocks kicked up by the front of the sled.

We climbed into position, wriggling around until all our limbs were tucked away somewhere safe. There was barely room on the tiny sled, and I was pressed close against Julien's back. It rather reminded me of the time we'd had to share a horse, after mine had been killed by a saurian attack. It seemed an age or more ago.

Julien set us in motion with a sturdy kick, and we were off at breakneck speed down the side of the mountain. I held tight to my companion and buried my face in his fur coat, trying not to imagine the horrible injuries we would both sustain in the event of a crash. I could not _hear_ him laughing - a rare occurrence - but I could feel the vibrations through the fabric between us. He was evidently getting more enjoyment out of our wild ride than was I.

Everything went perfectly until we neared the bottom of the hill, when one of our runners struck up against an concealed rock and tipped us head over heels. I vaguely remember letting loose a shriek of terror as the world turned over and over in front of me. I landed bodily on something warm and yielding that made an odd grunting noise. Pushing myself upright and brushing snow-clumped hair from my eyes, I saw that Julien had broken my fall. He was rather deeply embedded in the snow as a result, and we had a grand time digging him out again. The only good point in the adventure was that our sled was undamaged.

When we had collected our prize pig (it was a fine specimen that must have weighted more than I do) and lashed it to the sled, we looked back up the slope, where our sled tracks were deeply marked: parallel gashes in the otherwise unbroken snow. They continued downward in an unswerving line until they ended in a large area which had completely torn up and smashed down. That, combined with a bits of blood from the pig, gave the appearance of a small battle having been fought.

"There's no way we're going to get back up there," Julien observed ruefully. "Not hauling this creature. We'll have to walk along the valley bottom until we find a path that will take up back up."

I was disposed to begin throwing accusations at this point, but I managed to restrain myself. Complaining would do us no good at all, and would serve only to spoil the friendly mood between us. I shouldered the shortbow in silence and we began the long walk back to camp.

I have looked at many maps of the area since that day, and I still cannot identify which wrong turn we took. All I know is that four hours later, an early darkness was encroaching on the land, and we had not spotted any familiar territory. To make matters worse, the powdery, playful snow which had begun to fall some time before had now morphed into a full-blown blizzard. We had to stay within two paces of one another or risk becoming separated. Hunger gnawed viciously at my guts, and I thought longingly of the blazing fire and warm food back at camp, where they were no doubt beginning to be curious about our fate.

I became rather morose and quiet, but Julien kept up a stream of cheerful commentary, which I am sure was largely for my benefit. Even when it became black as pitch and we actually had to hold hands to stay together, he never ceased. I lost track of how many times he said, "Don't worry, Sophie, camp is just over this next hill," or, "I'm sure we'll see the torches any minute now," or, "We're getting close. I can feel it," and other such comforting statements.

But at last there came a time when his voice, long since grown hoarse, stuttered and failed, and then there was only the crunch of our feet in the fresh snow, and the _shik-shik _of the laden sled dragging behind us. Had there been any beasts out hunting, we would surely have been eaten, but not even a chimera would venture forth in such a storm.

Walking kept us warm, at least, but at some point, I began to feel as though my hands and feet were on fire. The feeling spread from there to encompass my entire body. I was sleepy as well, dreadfully sleepy, and I felt that nothing would be as satisfactory then as just lying down in a snowdrift and lapsing into pleasant dreams of feasting. I tried to communicate these desires to Julien, but my tongue was oddly numb, and it came out as, "Mmm swee-pee, Ju'lin."

He seemed to get the basic idea, however, because he turned to me and said, in a stern voice, "You may not go to sleep, Sophie. I forbid it."

I no longer cared about keeping the peace and said something rude in reply, which Julien kindly ignored.

I remember nothing of the ordeal after that, but I am told later that shortly thereafter, I sat down in the snow and blatantly refused to move. Now, you may have noticed that Julien has a long history of playing the hero (the action that brought him into my life was nothing less than saving it, as he has proceeded to do many time since then.) I owe him more than I can say. He had never failed me before, and he didn't now, although I'm sure it was tempting. He is modest in the retelling of the story, but the bald truth of it is that he carried me half-unconscious in his arms for the last mile, with the sled tied to his shoulders as if he was a cart-horse. Not a very knightly position, but valiant all the same.

In any case, if it were not for the highest luck, we would both have perished out in the snow, and our poor corpses would have either made a tasty snack for some wild animal, or been buried under the snow until the spring sun or some wayward explorer uncovered us. But the Maker was watching out for us, and Julien bumped (quite literally) into a little cottage out in the wastes, built by some recluse long ago and abandoned for many years. He brought me inside and laid me on the stone cot, and then - worn weary beyond the capacity for further movement, he passed into a deep sleep.


	10. Not Gonna Hit the Ground

Chapter Nine: Not Gonna Hit the Ground

**Thanks, thanks again for the loveliness of reviews! The longer and more detailed they are, the happier I become. I relish hearing all of your thoughts about the story. We're inching closer to Sophie's backstory in this chapter - not quite there yet, but I promise it's coming soon! I must warn you all in advance that there is more angst in here than in previous chapters. I tried to make it believable and not overdone, but I'd appreciate knowing if it's painful to read. Also (SPOILER ALERT!) this chapter contains the milestone moment of the first kiss. I sometimes have problems making romantic moments too sappy, so let me know what you think. Thanks for reading, and I'll let you get on with the story before you get too bored :)****  
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_(Julien's POV)_

I regained consciousness with the excruciating feeling of being roasted alive in dragon-fire, which as anyone will tell you is the hottest flame in the world. Not for nothing are the best weapons and armor forged in it; any material that can stand up to the heat from a dragon's mouth is worthwhile indeed.

My first impression upon opening my eyes was the cracked roof beams the of the hut, with strips of heather and sod peeping through. The building was small enough that I could see the entire ceiling from my position on the floor.

I sat up gingerly, wondering how long I had been out. Last I knew, it had been nighttime, and from the fragile light coming through the window slit, it was now day. But was this day following that night? How much time had elapsed?

I heard a plaintive sound, and glanced around sharply to see Sophie stirring restlessly on the bed - if a slab of stone with no blanket or pillow can be called such. Her face was flushed and damp and I thought at once that she looked unwell. This suspicion was strengthened at once when I brushed my hand across her forehead and found it clammy and hot.

She opened hazy eyes at my touch and a weary smile crossed her lips. "Julien," she murmured. "I dreamed we were lost in the snow …"

"No dream, I'm afraid," I replied. My heart was dark with self-anger; once again, I had subjected Sophie to harm through my carelessness. Her quality of life would doubtless be improved were she never to lay eyes on me again. I asked, "How do you feel?"

"Fine," she lied unconvincingly. "I bit chilled, perhaps. And thirsty. But otherwise quite well. And yourself? You are none the worse for wear?"

"Do not trouble yourself for me," I said at once. "Rest, and I will do what I can to get you water." As an afterthought, I removed my heavy coat and laid it over her. She immediately snuggled down in it and gave a sigh of contentment. As she closed her eyes, the thought crossed my mind that she looked very vulnerable and childlike, a revelation that did nothing to ease the guilt which had grown in my chest.

I cracked the door to the hut open, and had to close it at once to prevent five feet of packed snow from toppling inwards. Until I could dig us out, we were trapped like rats in a cage.

My first priority was finding some way to make a fire. There was a clay stove in the corner, with a crudely-shaped chimney to direct the smoke through the roof into the outside air. In another corner, stored in a barrel, I found a tinderbox, a burned-out lantern with a cracked glass case and no oil in it, and a few dishes, including an extremely dirty, dented pot. There was no wood to be found, of course.

However, I consider myself to be a man of resource, and I was not to be stymied by so basic an obstacle as lack of burnable material. The runners of our faithful sled may have been made of bone, but the supports linking them were wooden, and hide will burn as well if kindled. I had dismantled the craft in minutes, and forced the pieces into the stove, whence I set to work with the tinderbox until I had a tidy blaze going.

It took a lot of scrubbing with a piece of cloth torn from my sleeve before I would consider using the pan. I filled it liberally with snow from outside and set it on top of the stove to melt.

Fortuitously, we did not have to worry about food. The pig I had slain would keep us in meat for quite some time if necessary, and the cold had preserved it excellently. I hauled it outside, skinned it with my belt knife, and cleaned it, making sure to dispose of the offal well under the snow, so as not to attract attention from the beasts of the land.

Returning to the cabin interior, I cut a few bite-sized chunks from the most tender part of the pig and dropped them into the water, which was now letting off a mist of steam from its surface. Tiny bubbles were thick upon the sides and bottom of the pan, and the pork sent them rushing upwards when it made contact.

I let the meat boil for a long time before I determined that it was safe to eat. Then I fished the pieces out and set them on a clean cloth, and brought them to Sophie where she lay half-asleep on the stone bed. Her brow felt hotter to me than before, and her eyes were slightly glazed. I helped her sit upright and gave her a few sips from a glass of melted snow that I had set aside to cool some time before. Then, I tried to coax her to eat a few bites. It was a woefully inadequate meal, but I knew that she needed sustenance.

She barely had enough energy to thank me once she had choked down what little she was able to chew. As she drifted off once more, her lips moved, and I thought I heard my name, but I couldn't be sure. I covered her up again and sat down to eat my own dinner.

Later on, I stamped out a pathway in the snow leading from the cabin door to a little ramshackle outhouse about ten paces away. That finished, I hiked up to the top of a nearby ridge to see if I might get a sense of which direction the camp lay in. I could see nothing but sharp crags and whiteness as far as I could see.

To give you a general idea of the way the land was formed, we were in a valley shaped roughly like a letter q. The open space at the center was taken up by the ridge where I stood, and our cabin was located near the top right, where the curve joins with the straight line. The ground rose steeply away on the right side, and rolled into an endless pattern of wave-like hills on the left. In other words, we were in a dead end, and unless we felt like trying our chances with the wave-hills, the only option was to return the way we had come, and hope to chance upon the correct path. There was no possibility of retracing our exact steps; they had been wiped out entirely by the blizzard.

Thus was our predicament, and I can in all honesty say that I was very close to despair. Not for myself - I was confident in my ability to survive - but for Sophie, who was in danger of becoming seriously ill … perhaps even dying. That notion struck such a chill into my heart that I turned and rushed in haste back down the slope to the cabin, half-convinced that she had already succumbed to death's embrace.

But she was where I had left her, slumbering peacefully. Her head was tilted to the side, one satin cheek thrust upward, and on an impulse I bent to kiss it. I know not why I was compelled to do so, but I was overwhelmed by affection for her. I sat for some time running my fingers through her sweat-soaked hair, and watching her eyelids tremble in the throes of sleep. I must have eventually dropped off myself, for when I next opened my eyes, the cabin was dark.

I hesitate in relating the next portion of the tale, for reasons you will understand if you choose to read it. But the story would not be complete without it. I must therefore ask you to forgive me if I am sparse on details, for even now that it is long past, I find it disturbing to remember.

I woke from sound sleep, as I have said, to a darkened cabin. The fire in the stove had burned down to ash and cinder, and the only light came from the moon, which thrust down a glowing spear through the window that stuck quivering in the floorboards. In this narrow shaft of light stood Sophie, her eyes fully open and yet unseeing. The pale glow on her hair and naked skin (naked, I say, though the air was chill as ice) made her appear a ghost, an apparition.

I could not but stare in awe and confusion, and some distress, as she took a step towards me. She wore nothing to cover her body, and out of the corner of my eye, I could see her clothes in a heap on the bed. At first I could not understand, but then I realized that she must be delirious with fever and unknowing of her own actions.

She took yet another step, and still I stared up at her, struck dumb with shock. Then her lips parted, and she spoke in the flat voice of one who is possessed.

"Master," she said. "You called for me. I have come." Her eyes glittered like diamonds in the moonlight.

There had been a time when she called me 'master', but those days were long passed. And in any case, I had never been master of her body, only her mind. I pressed back against the freezing wall and waited in silence.

To my extreme agitation, she proceeded to kneel down and press her lips to mine. They burned against my skin like twin embers, and I twisted my head away with a muffled exclamation. She then stretched out her hands to me, and I caught her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. I even shook her a little, desperately trying to force her wits back into her, but that had an effect on her body that I blush to describe. I stopped at once.

"Sophie!" I said loudly. "Sophie, what are you doing?"

"Take me, Master," she moaned, and I gaped at her, aghast. Who was this glistening succubus, this ethereal embodiment of fire and lust? It could not be my Sophie. The woman I loved was shy and modest, and would never put herself before me in this way.

I could bear it no longer. Pushing her away (carefully! Do you think I wanted to hurt her?), I scrambled upright and seized my long fur coat from the bed. I stepped forward and wrapped it around her with a smooth movement. At this she wilted into my arms, and I was obliged to catch her before she fell. I lifted her easily and set her back on the bed, but no sooner had I released her than she sprang upright again, attempting to throw herself upon me in what seemed to be a fit of desire.

Now is the moment to tell all. I would not be a man if I did not in some way reciprocate that feeling. And as she wrapped herself around me, all supple flesh and hot breath, I closed my eyes and appealed to the Maker for strength. I hope you will think more highly of me because I did not relent and do as my primal instincts demanded of me. May other men who face the same trial find the iron will that I found, and resist.

I wrapped her up again and returned her to the bed, and this time I sat beside her and held her down, as gently and as firmly as one might hold a tiny bird fluttering its wings in a panic. At first she pleaded with me and tried to entice me with all sorts of suggestions which I cannot repeat, then she grew angry and cursed and threatened, and finally she wept and asked what she had done to displease me. She even begged me not to hurt her! By this time I had begun to feel an inkling of suspicion that in her state of madness she was addressing some other and not me. I thought perhaps that in her fever, she had broken through the wall surrounding her past memories, and was reliving some former experience. That thought was repulsive to me, but I had no choice but to believe.

I must have sat there for an hour at least, perhaps longer, before she grew quiet and sleepy again. I watched her for some time, just to be sure, before I dared to rest myself. I wanted to be near to her, to reassure myself of her continuing presence, so I lay down by her side and wrapped my arms around her blanketed form. The stone slab was hardly wide enough for two, and the former inhabitant of the cabin must have been a dwarf, for my feet stuck out well over the bottom edge, but I was exhausted, and in spite of the serious shock I had suffered, it was not long before I fell asleep again.

_(Sophie's POV)_

I was warm, so blissfully warm, and more comfortable than I had been in a long time - probably since sleeping in my bed in the Duke's castle. I was also aware of a solid weight across my waist, on top of my blanket. I reached up to feel it and discovered that it was an arm, which was draped across me and belonged to someone lying beside me. From the shape and musculature, it was a man's arm. I could think of only one man whom I would permit to share my bed, but I could not recall doing so. I rolled over with some difficulty and beheld the familiar handsome face crowned with a mane of golden hair and eyes tightly closed in sleep.

I was conscious then of a need to relieve myself, so I put other considerations aside and slipped out from under Julien's arm. When I stood up, my joints felt as though I was a machine that had rusted in the rain. I could almost hear myself creaking.

It was then that I realized I was naked.

It was also then, unfortunately, that Julien chose to open his eyes. I gasped and shrank down into skin-colored lump of embarrassment on the floor, while he flushed red as an apple and quickly covered his eyes while shoving his coat in my general direction. I was a little surprised to note that he was fully clothed. This immediately brought to mind the pressing question: what exactly is going on here?

Which is, naturally, what I proceeded to ask.

"Do you remember nothing of last night?" he asked in a strained voice, still averting his eyes.

"Is there something to remember?" I countered sharply. In my mortified confusion, I was feeling more than a little threatened. You understand, it is not that I had any objection to sharing Julien's bed. I had actually desired it on more than one occasion of late. But I did object, strongly, to having no memory of our shared experience.

In halting words, Julien told me of the night's events. He made no accusations, and was as courteous and tolerant as could be, but if anything, that served to shame me more. If he had struck me and called me names, I would have been deserving of it, but it was as though I had rolled in filth and he had reached out to me and dirtied his own hands to wash me clean. I could not but feel as though I had defiled him somehow. I sat with my back to him and wept silently into the collar of his coat, which I had wrapped tightly around me.

"Sophie," Julien said, sounding as distressed as I felt. "Sophie, please do not weep. I do not hold you accountable. You were sick, fevered. You knew not what you were doing! Sophie, I am concerned for you!"

I turned towards him, my face streaked with tears, and saw a look of such caring in his eyes, such devotion and worry, that my heart was rent near in two. Who was I to be worthy of that look from a man as pure as he? I was nothing, a spacious void, an empty shell filled with mist and forgotten memories. A mere fraction of a human being, broken and torn. How could I pledge my future to him when I had no past?

Julien got up from the bed and came to sit beside me. He put his arms around me, coat and all, and pulled me onto his lap, where I proceeded to sob into his shoulder while he stroked my hair and shushed me. He thought I was upset merely by what he had told me. How could he have known how deep it really ran? I was not good enough for him, I knew that, and sooner or later he would come to know it too. And then the only reason for living that I had would disappear.

"Sophie," he said at length, when my sobs had faded to hiccups and then to a forlorn silence broken only by occasional sniffles, "there is something you must know about the day I found you. I should have told you long ago, but I feared what it would mean for you. However, in light of recent occurrences, I can keep it a secret no longer."

"You have a clue about my past?" I looked up at him, too excited to be angry that he had deceived me.

"Perhaps; I know not what it means," he replied elusively. "But that day … I said that you were badly injured, but I have not said how or by whom. The truth is that someone, or rather several someones, had tried to kill you and very nearly succeeded. I found you tied to a pole with a stake of silver through your stomach, surrounded by the charred corpses of a small gathering of people. There was not a burn mark on you."

I flinched as a sudden pain ran through the long-healed scar just above my bellybutton. "But that … that is the punishment for witches," I said. "Does that mean I was a … witch?"

He shook his head helplessly. "I know not."

"And you saved me anyway? Why?"

"Because things are not always as they seem," he said. "Because you were still alive, and I did not want you to suffer there for hours. Because you intrigued me. Choose whichever reason you will. It was a little of all, I think, and something else besides: a feeling in my heart that it was the right thing to do."

"That is debatable," I replied. "The law of the land says that witches are evil and should be killed before they kill you. You have heard the stories: we eat children and make bread from their bones. We drink the blood of beautiful maidens to stay young. We drug men and have our way with them and then burn them still alive inside effigies of straw. And if the children are born male, they are sacrificed to demons."

"You have already made up your mind that you were a witch, then," Julien replied calmly. "Have you done these things?"

"I might have; I don't remember!" I was nearly screaming at him now, desperate to make him understand why he couldn't have me.

"Well, then, until you lay proof before me of your evil deeds, I will believe whatever I want to," he said. "And I don't believe that you are guilty of any of those crimes. Sophie, I have seen you rocking that northern baby at the camp, singing to him for all the world as if he was your own. Could you act in such a way to one infant if you had eaten others?"

I did not answer. I wanted to badly for him to be right.

"And another thing," he continued. "Whatever you have done - and until we know for certain, I will make no assumptions - you are no longer that same person. You are as innocent as if you had been born anew from your mother's womb, knowing nothing of the world. So let us have no more talk witches and evil deeds. You are Sophie, _my _Sophie, and I would not have you any other way."

This speech was so compassionate and kind that it brought fresh tears to my eyes. Julien wiped them away with his finger and said, with the corner of his mouth quirked up, "Mind that you don't drown us both."

"I love you," I blurted out. "I mean that truly! I have since I first laid eyes on you. I can't even begin to say you much you mean to me, Julien."

"Then don't try," he replied. "And I shan't either. There are not enough words in the world."

Closing my eyes, I leaned towards his face for a kiss. It would have been perfect, except that he went for a more chaste but less romantic spot on my forehead at the same time. I ended up kissing his chin.

Laughing bashfully, we tried again, in cooperation this time. He tasted like wood smoke and wild pork and something that was unique to him alone. He tasted like the same passion that was burning in my chest, an unquenchable flame of love and longing. He tasted like my dreams and my desires.

Our kiss evidently the same intoxicating effect on him that it had on me, for when our lips parted he just stared at me with a grin on his face, which I am sure was mirrored on my own mouth.

"I love you," I repeated, positive that I couldn't say it enough. The words were like honey on my tongue, soothing me.

"And I you," he said, and kissed me again.


	11. The Choice is Yours and Mine

Chapter Ten: The Choice is Yours and Mine

**Thanks thanks thanks for the reviews! I especially want to thank Yumeno, my French reader. I couldn't respond directly to your review, so I'd like to say here that your message was entirely readable, and I appreciate that you took the time and effort to write in English. **

**WARNING: this chapter contains some sexual references. Very briefly. Oh, and I apologize for the cliffhanger at the end. Next chapter will be out as soon as I can write it.  
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_(Sophie's POV)_

Julien's lovemaking embodied the same energy and wholeheartedness with which he pursued every other aspect of his life. I have never felt so precious, needed, and desirable as when I was in his arms, my eyes locked onto his as we moved in unison.

Later on, when we lay tired and content side by side, he turned to me with a hint of uncertainty and said, "I hope I did not disappoint you."

"What would make you think that?" I asked, surprised.

"Well …" A pink flush crept up his cheeks; he looked for a moment like a boy caught with his hand in the sweet jar. "I had not done this before. I am not so naïve about it, I know enough, but it is a different matter when you are doing it yourself."

"I would never have guessed," I said to reassure him. Men take themselves very seriously when it comes to mating and combat.

He seemed appeased, for he lay back and clasped my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles in a steady rhythm.

"Tell me more about yourself," I said.

Julien laughed. "Oh, I am not very interesting, my lovely enigma."

"Even so. You at least have a history; I'd like to know it, if you don't mind. I am curious about you."

"Very well, if you insist," he sighed. "I was born twenty-six years ago - twenty-seven now, actually - to the Lord of House Laroche, one of the eight noble families of Boldoa …"

It is spelled Laroche, but pronounced lah-ROESH, and it means 'from the stones'.

He went on to tell me, in a dreamy voice, about his childhood, spend running wild in the streets of Pernet, his hometown. He told me of waging war against the children of the rival House Chevalier, and how he was once kidnapped by Chevalier's heir and held hostage, and his brother led a small army to reclaim him. In the ensuing fray, Rycard had hit young Chevalier in the face so hard that his nose was broken, and he ran back into the manor crying for his mother. That, Julien said, was when he truly realized his brother's heroic potential.

It was painful for him to speak of his brother. Rycard's death was an open wound in his heart that would like as not never heal over. Julien had been but seventeen at the time, an idealistic boy with firm notions about his capability to survive anything. His brother's fall to a drake had instilled in him a foreign emotion, one that he had never before had cause to feel: despair.

But even then, his idealism had not quite been lost. He still believed in the four primary staples of knighthood, which his father had taught him from birth: Honor, Courage, Virtue, and Compassion. And so he came to Gransys, determined that he would do his best for the country and its inhabitants.

He had not reckoned upon the very land being corrupted and sick.

Lying there in the darkening cabin, Julien told me everything. He told me of his disgust with the underhanded policies of the Duke's court, the greedy who step on the hands of those less fortunate to continue their swollen existence. He told me of his heartbreak when he caught the Duke's soldiers, knight like him sworn to protect the people, abusing their privileges and their wards; and of his outrage when he tried to report them and was shooed away like a tattling child.

He told me of making plans, alone in the dark, for the fall of Gransys from power, and its complete annex by Boldoa. He desired nothing more than the reform of that crumbling nation, to rebuild it into a strong power once again. But a revolution is hard to pull off without resources.

Then he told me of Salvation, the shadow in the night that came to him and offered him money in exchange for services. At first, all they wanted from him was information about goings on in the castle, which he had no qualms about providing. But the deeper Julien waded, the more filthy the waters became. Blackmailing came next, threatening officials with retribution if they did not aid Salvation's cause. Then came robbery, on the occasions when what they needed could not be obtained otherwise. And finally, murder - the killing of those who stood in their way, or who threatened to. With each step he took, Julien dug himself deeper into a hole from which he could not climb out.

"And then," he said, with a smile that made my heart soar, "I met you, dearest Sophie. You brought light back into my life. You gave me a new sense of purpose, of justice. With you by my side, I feel that I can continue on regardless of what happens."

We did not talk about the future. We spoke only of the present, of what we needed to do to get back to the encampment. My fever had broken, but I still felt weak and ill. We decided to wait for another full day before setting out to retrace our steps, if we could. Julien prepared a generous meal from our friend the pig, which he roasted on an arrow-spit over the magical fire I produced. We ate together and slept together, and when I opened my eyes and saw his face the next morning, I felt that the world could not be more perfect.

Looking back now on our time at the cabin, although it was in reality only two full days and three nights, it seems that we lived an entire lifetime there, locked away from the rest of humanity by a vast ocean of snow and stone. It was as though we were the only people in existence, and nothing else mattered. Not war, not the plight of the land, not the fact that Julien was now an exile - a branded criminal - and I had no history to call my own. We belonged only to each other, and were defined by our bond as a single entity. In a way, it was a much stronger tie than the one forged in dragon magic by the Fetters of Heaven.

We left on the morning of the third day. The sled was gone, but we cooked as much of the pork as we could carry and left the rest in the cabin: an peace offering to the spirit of its former tenant.

By a lucky coincidence, we happened upon a search party from the encampment no more than two hours out. They were overjoyed to see us, having feared we were dead or worse, and led us back. Ironically, we had been no more than a few miles away all that time, but we had somehow managed to wander around a great spur of land, and thus had put the entire razor bulk of the mountain between us and our adopted home. It was fortunate that we had not struck out across the rolling hills, for that way led only to the far north countries, and we would have perished long before reaching any civilization.

As soon as we entered the encampment, Brynhild came rushing out from her tent and embraced me wildly, tears running down her withered cheeks. I was both surprised and touched at the warmth of her greeting, but I hugged her back and apologized for frightening her. She told me, mostly in gestures, that Elfryk had not stopped crying since I had gone missing.

We soon discovered that there was bigger news at camp than my and Julien's disappearance. A most prestigious visitor had arrived only that morning: the Arisen himself. I was hesitant that our presence should be made known to him, in case he felt obliged to report us to the authorities, but Julien insisted that we were not in danger from him. Taking my hand possessively, he led the way to the guest tent.

As it turned out, the Arisen was in no position to report anyone at the time, being himself a fugitive from the Duke's justice. The reason was obvious, in the form of a slender girl with flaxen hair, skin the color of milk, and a half-dreamy, half-forlorn expression on her face. She was, of course, the young Duchess.

The Arisen - Gats, I may call him - was more than pleased to see us both and demanded that we sit down with him and take some refreshment. If he guessed that I was the same woman he had helped back at the castle, he made no mention of it. He was as courteous and cheerful as always, with the Duchess a pale shadow as his side.

His tale was an interesting one, but what it amounted to was very simple: he had been ill-fated enough to fall for the one woman in the entire land whose heart was deadly to win, and he had not exactly shown wisdom in pursuing her (although from what I gather, the Duchess herself was just as much at fault, if not more). In any case, the poor man had actually been caught inside his paramour's chamber by the girl's husband himself, with disastrous consequences for both. For Gats, it meant having his knightly privileges revoked, as well as a trip to the dungeon, complete with a personal visit from the same Ser Jakob who had so terrorized me. But for the Duchess, the punishment was no less severe. She had been exiled to the Duke's northern manse, where she had been locked in a tower to await whatever retribution her husband saw fit.

Need I even go on to tell the rest of the story? Julien asked the Arisen what he intended now, and Gats' staunch answer was that he meant to pursue his destiny and win his heart back from the Dragon, regardless of his current status in the realm. That was, in fact, the reason for his visit to the Greatwall. He had heard from Mason that Salvation was orchestrating a massive strike at this location within the next few days.

Julien, without hesitation, pledged his help in the battle, if there was to be one. I was instantly seized by the most irrational worries: _what if he were to be injured? What if they capture him and drag him back to Gran Soren to face imprisonment again? What if he is … killed … _

I told myself I was being silly, that I should have more faith in my knight's abilities. Several days ago, I would not have been fretting like this, but that was before. Now that he was mine, at last, I could not bear the possibility of losing him, however remote it was.

Just then, a soldier entered the tent and bowed before the Arisen. At the time, I wondered why they were so friendly to him. They were the Duke's men, after all. Later, I learned that he had saved Captain Marek's daughter from a cyclops that was about to eat her, and thus won that noble man's goodwill.

"My Lord," said the soldier, "the refugees are ready to relocate to the second camp."

Julien and I turned to look at him, and asked simultaneously, "What's going on?"

"In light of the threat on our camp, the Captain has ordered us to evacuate the women, children, and those who are old and infirm to our reserve base further back in the mountains, where they'll be safe," the soldier explained.

"Sophie will go with them," said Julien, not looking at me.

I was wounded that he did not want me by his side. Scowling, I snapped, "No, I won't."

He looked at me with pleading eyes. "Even if I ask it?"

"No. Why should I flee with the women and children?"

"You _are _a woman," he pointed out, as if I might have forgotten that minor detail.

I snorted. This was unbelievable! Were all men like this once they were convinced they had conquered you?

"Do not treat me like a weakling because of my gender, Julien," I said in a low voice. "You of all people should know what I am capable of. You were never so eager to leave me behind when I was your slave!"

He winced, and I could tell that I had hurt him. "You know it is not like that," he replied. "Sophie, I respect you more than anyone. And please don't think that it brings me any pleasure to ask this of you. But war is dangerous, and no one can protect themselves all the time. If anything were to happen to you, I …" His voice broke, and he turned away. His back was rigid, and I felt a sudden wave of remorse for my unkind words. He was not trying to be condescending after all; he was experiencing, just as I was, the terrible fear of losing something that had only just become your entire world.

I stepped close to him, ignoring the amazed stares of the people around us, and touched his shoulder. When he turned towards me, I wrapped my arms around him, leaned up, and pressed my lips to his. He closed his eyes, and I could feel the tension leave him in a great flood, as if drawn out by my kiss.

"I understand how you feel," I whispered. "I am afraid for you too. But please, _please_, if you truly love me, don't send me from your side. You said no one can protect themselves all the time. The same goes for you. So we'll protect each other. All right?"

Julien's shoulders sagged, and I could see that he'd given in. He opened his mouth to reply, but just then the soldier who had brought the news interrupted.

"Um, my Lady," he said awkwardly, "actually, Captain Marek was hoping that you might consent to travel with the refugees and keep them safe in case of an attack on the second camp. We're not going to be able to send many soldiers along, and the presence of someone of your strength might make a great deal of difference."

What could I say to that? To refuse would seem petty and selfish. I exchanged a glance with Julien and saw hope in his eyes, which he tactfully hid.

"It's your decision, my love," he deferred.

I sighed deeply. If the news of the evacuation hadn't been as much a surprise to him as it had to me, I might have expected him of conspiring with Marek to hustle me away from the fighting. But since he had no prior way of knowing, I had to assume the request was genuine. Reluctantly, I nodded.

"I will go," I said. "Tell the Captain that I'm ready." My voice was steady, and my eyes remained dry, but only through pure willpower. I did not look at Julien; I didn't want to see the relief that I knew would show through.

_(Julien's POV)_

My heart was heavy as I watched the flock of refugees, with Sophie at the head, marching off down the trail I had worked so hard on. The second camp was by the spring, tucked into a shallow cave in the mountain, and it was well secured from attack. The only way to approach it was from the front, up the long narrow valley free from scrub and rock. And one well-placed from the cave's lookout would trigger the fall of boulders that had been strategically positioned along the mountain cliff. As a last resort, if the defenders were truly overwhelmed, they could pull a rope and sent a rockslide to cover the entrance of the cave and lock themselves inside. There was plenty of fresh water and food stores, and breathing holes had been drilled in the solid stone. All things considered, it was the safest spot for miles around.

So why was I so nervous? Why did I have this terrible premonition that I would never see my Sophie again? I shook my head, trying to convince myself that it was just foolish imaginings, my brain taking my natural concern for her and twisting it into some darker prophesy of doom.

I stared after her until she was no longer visible, and then I turned and went back inside the stockade. I was determined to make myself useful despite my discomfort.

The attack came sooner than expected. I was helping another soldier haul a barrel of explosive ballista bolts up onto the ramparts of the Greatwall when I heard screams and shouting from down below. Looking over the edge, I saw a vast patch of blackness, with tendrils of purple energy creeping through it, spreading across the ground in the center of the camp. The men who were unfortunate enough to be standing in the affected area were sucked down through the earth by skeletal hands that reached up for them.

What emerged forth from the portal was more horrible than I can say. It was a cyclops, of unusual size, with tusks longer than my arm and as thick at the base as Sophie's waist. But there was something wrong with it: its skin was patchy with rot, and its single eye was nothing more than a gaping, bloody hole in its face. A sudden updraft carried a sickening stench up to where I stood.

"Quick, the ballista!" cried the soldier with me. I ran to it and loaded in one of the explosive bolts, swiveling the machine so it pointed right at the undead cyclops, who had completed his arrival in the world and was showing signs of wanting to start a rampage. I stuck one of the bolts into his right arm at the elbow, and the explosion cleanly separated the joint, but that only made him angry. He turned and began to thunder towards me, building up speed until he crashed right into the gate.

I felt the stones shake under my feet, and clutched at the battlements to keep from falling over. The 'clops had bulled right through the solid oak doors and was in the courtyard, flailing around with his remaining arms and stomping his feet and growling fit to wake the dead. Which is not a figure of speech, by the way; the soil in the graveyard in the corner of the court began to tremble in response to his roars.

We were in trouble now. Unfortunately, the ballista would turn far enough for me to get in a second shot. As the brave soldiers streamed through the broken-down door, I was thinking of another solution. If I could somehow detach the ballista from the wall …

Then came the snow harpies, and for quite some time, I could afford to think of nothing but how to defend myself. I tore small pieces of cloth from my sleeve and stuffed them into my ears so that I would not hear their songs, which have the power to make a man slip into slumber against his will. Their talons were still deadly, though, and they swooped low and fast, trying to seize me and carry me up so they could drop me to my death. One of them very nearly succeeded, but I managed to hook my leg around the ballista at the last moment, and take her out of the sky with a blow from my mace.

Meanwhile, down in the courtyard, the Arisen and his pawns had dealt with the cyclops and forced their way into the fort, where most of the Salvation forces had hidden themselves. I was following after, dealing the death blow to any undead who could still crawl, when I heard a noise that made me grow weak at the knees: a deafening roar, raw and powerful and terrifying, unlike any sound I have ever heard. I looked up.

The sky had become a vortex of swirling clouds, such was the force generated by his wing beats.

The Dragon had come at last.

Around me, men fell to their faces in fear. But I remained standing, my eyes fixated on a single point of light descending rapidly through the air, a tiny bit of gold that glinted as it fell. It landed on the ground at my feet, and I bent and picked it up as if in a dream.

It was a ring, small and delicate, fit for a lady's finger. And I had seen it, recently, on the finger of a lady: the Duchess. But she had gone with the refugees to the second sanctuary!

There was only one thought left in my mind.

Where was Sophie?

_(Sophie's POV)_

Most of the women were crying. I could understand it - after all, I myself was leaving behind the man I loved, and there was no guarantee that I would see him again. But I wished that they could at least cry silently, as I did. We had quite enough on our hands at the moment without drawing unwanted attention.

Brynhild was marvelous. She went around, Elfryk strapped to her back, reassuring and comforting all the women. There was something in her kind smile and broken speech that made everyone want to believe her when she said that our men were strong and would survive.

Within twenty minutes, I could see the entrance to the valley where our safe place was. The stream ran cold and fast over the white stones. We stopped to drink from it. The water was so frigid that it hurt my throat when I swallowed it.

I looked back to see smoke rising from beyond the hill. If I listened hard, I could hear the sounds of battle. So it had begun.

Beside me, a girl of fifteen dropped to the ground. Her face was peaceful, her eyes closed. I knelt down and shook her, but her head lolled from side to side. She was fast asleep.

Warning bells went off in my brain, but by the time I realized what was going on, I had been hit full on by the torpor spell, and I could hardly keep my eyelids from dropping. The last thing I saw before passing out completely was a tall, cloaked figure standing on the slope of the mountain opposite me, staff in hand.

**Next chapter will include an explanation of Sophie's backstory, I promise :D Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!**


	12. The Dragon Inside of Me

Chapter Ten: The Dragon Inside of Me

**Got some great reviews this time too! Thanks SO much to everyone who takes the time to read this story, and especially to those who give me feedback. It warms the heart, truly. Pretty soon, I'm going to go back over some of the older chapters and improve them. So if you have any suggestions, now would be a good time to submit! Just look for the message on the story description that will say "now with updated content" or something like that. **

**WARNING: this chapter contains some dark sexual themes. If those bother you, don't read.  
**

_(Sophie's POV)_

My first feelings upon awakening were a strange mixture of terror and excitement. And also something else, a persistent itch in the back of my mind. I can only describe it thus: imagine that you have been imprisoned for months in a dark place, but that you have been digging a tunnel towards your escape. It seems utterly hopeless, but you have continued day after day because you have no choice. Then, all at once, you feel the last bits of earth crumbling beneath your fingertips, and you see a tiny beam of light enter your tomb.

That was how I felt.

Perhaps I'd better say a few words about the situation I found myself in. It was certainly an odd one, and I could think of no logical explanation for how I had arrived in it. I lying on a stone slab or table, with iron bands securing me at the wrists, ankles, stomach, and neck. They were uncomfortably tight, and I could move not an inch. By rolling my eyes, I could make out a small natural cave, lit by hundreds of candles. Strange symbols were painted on the walls in what looked like blood. The air was heavy with death and decay.

I was not gagged, but the restraint on my throat made it difficult to open my mouth. I coughed a little and managed to force out a strangled whimper, through which the words, 'is anyone here?' could barely be distinguished.

Imagine my surprise when I was immediately answered by a deep, throaty voice. From the rapid increase in my heartbeat, I knew that my body remembered that voice even if my mind did not.

"You are with us at last, sweet Serene," it - he - said. "I hope you are not too uncomfortable?"

"My name is Sophie," I squeaked in reply.

"Sophie?" said the unseen man. "Sophie was your mother, that whore who sold you to a stranger for a bit of quick gold. Your name is Selene, my kitten."

There was a rustle of cloth, and the speaker moved to lean over me so that his face was right above mine. He was in his early forties, I guessed, with messy brown hair and a strong-boned face. His nose jutted forth like the beak of a hawk, and his eyes were lidded and menacing. His mouth was a thin, cruel line; when he smiled, it was like a whip. He was in dire need of a bath and a shave. A sour, unhealthy smell hung around him.

"Who are you?" I gasped through my constricted windpipe. "What do you want with me?"

He laughed, and the sound was like hammers striking upon my ears. "Of course you would not remember me, dear one. I see that the spell I laid on you in still in effect. Well, it will be easier to remove it then to waste breath in explanation."

Before I could react, he swooped down and kissed me forcefully, exhaling his tainted breath into my mouth. I felt bile rise in my throat, and choked it down with an effort. Then it felt as if my head was exploding. I released a scream, which was muffled by his mouth, still pressed to mine. The pain was blinding. Then, in the very center where it hurt the most, I felt something: a release, a sensation of remembering …

_I was very small, and it was snowing. I sat huddled on a doorstep, watching the feet of passersby making holes in the new blanket of white that covered the streets of the city. Hunger filled my stomach like a rock, scraping at my insides, but I knew it would be a long time before I could eat again. Mother still had three more men to talk to. _

_The snow melted and the flowers bloomed, and then the heat came, driving people down to the water in droves to splash and drink and cool off. The flowers withered and the grass grew brown. Then the leaves fell from the trees, and the sky grew dark early, and snow fell again. Time passed, and the little girl on the doorstep became a willowy child of ten, spry and agile and able to climb up walls and listen at windows. And Mother still talked to men. They would come to her frowning, and stay for an hour, and go away with a smile on their face and lighter pockets. _

_Men liked Mother, and by the time I was fifteen, they began to like me too. I heard some of them asking her if they could 'talk' to me. They said they would pay good money. But Mother refused. She would not sell her own daughter for gold, no matter how much. But is costs a lot to live, and the landlord was always angry. Even though Mother would talk to him for free, he still made her work too hard to pay for the rent. And one day Mother was hot and sick, and her belly was swollen, and she couldn't even get up from bed. That day, I went and took her place. I had no choice. _

_It hurt a lot, and I bled some. Mother said it was normal, but she cried as she said it. The man was kind to me, in his own way. He gave me more money than I asked for, and he smiled and touched my cheek, and said I was beautiful. Then he went away, and I went to the river and washed myself until I could no longer feel his hands touching me. _

_In the weeks that followed, a lot of men came to the place where my mother worked. They had gotten word that my mother was ill, and that her daughter was taking customers instead. Some of them were nice, but some were cruel and did things I didn't like. But when I told them to stop, they laughed and said they had paid for me, so I belonged to them. And when I pushed them, they hurt me and then refused to even give me money afterward. So I learned to be silent and do exactly as I was told. _

_One day, a man came in that I had never seen before. He had a harsh, brooding look, and he frightened me. But when I asked him what he wanted, he said he only came to see the girl that everyone was talking about. Then he stood very close to me and looked into my eyes for a long time, and said that I was too pretty a flower to be allowed to wither and fade. Then he went to talk to Mother, and said that he would pay her a very large sum to take me away with him forever. He said that he would teach me to be strong, so men would never again be able to hurt me. He said he would keep me safe. _

_Mother agreed. The baby inside her was very big by this time, and it would come into the world soon, and would need to be fed and clothed. With the money she got from that man, Mother would never have to work again. I cried when she told me the news, and clung to her, and begged her not to send me away. I said that I would gladly take her place and see as many men as I had to, if only I could stay with her. But she said that I deserved a chance to have a good life. She said that she could find me again some day and that we could be a family together: her and me and the baby. _

_The man's name was Salomet, and he was a powerful sorcerer who worked for the Duke. He treated me very well, and taught me how to cast spells and use magic. But I was forced to stay inside the castle; I was not allowed to go out, even with company. I wrote Mother many letters asking her how she was, and if the baby was a girl or a boy, but I never got any reply. _

_Salomet's temper was fierce when it was roused, and I soon learned to stay away from him when I saw a certain glint in his dark eye. At first, I saw it only rarely, but soon it began to appear more and more. He often quarreled with the Duke, or with his advisor Aldous, but he was so powerful that no one dared to throw him out or put him in prison. He could have killed them all if he had chosen. _

_One night, Salomet came into my room and shook me roughly awake. His eyes were burning in the darkness. He told me that we were leaving right then, that very instant, and he pulled me from the covers and dragged me out without even letting me get dressed or put my sandals on. We ran for a long time, and my feet were cracked and bleeding when we finally stopped at a shack and slept. _

_From then, I had no peace. We traveled from place to place, gathering a band of rough and unsavory men. Some of them tried to make advances to me, but I was strong now, and I knew how to hurt them before they could hurt me. I hit one of them in the groin with a fireball spell, and he never came near me again. _

_We became bandits in order to survive, attacking villages and stealing their food and valuables. I never minded taking from men; they were a worthless lot anyway. All they cared about was how much they could get out of you for their coin. But I never let any of our "companions" hurt a woman. Some of them tried, at the beginning, but I stopped them. And when they complained to Salomet about me, he told them that he valued me more highly. _

_But he was a man too, just like the others, and I realized it too late. Oh, he never forced himself on me - that was not his style. Instead, he addled my mind with enchantments until I believed myself to be in love with him. I would have done anything for him, and I did. Whatever he asked for was his. My body, my heart, my soul. He gave nothing in return but false promises and empty words. He used me until I had no more to offer him, and then he threw me away. _

_We had been on the run for three years by then, and people far and wide feared us. We were hunted by the Duke's soldiers everywhere we went. They caught up with us a few times, and there were fierce battles, and we lost many men. Moral began to falter in the group, and some of us started saying that we would be better off without Salomet, and that we should turn him in and hope for mercy. I was the only one against this. I stood up for him, saying that we had to place our trust in him. And then he came in and announced that he had made an arrangement with the captain of the Duke's army, and that we would never be harassed by the soldiers again. He would not say what that arrangement was. _

_That night, he called me to his room for the last time. He made love to me hungrily, with a dark passion I had not seen in him before. Afterwards, feeling drained and weak, I fell asleep by his side. That next thing I knew, I was waking up in Windbluff Tower, with the golden-haired knight sitting by my bed and stared out the window. _

I opened my eyes. The pain was gone, and I was left with a numbness throughout my entire body. I looked up at Salomet. The expression in his eyes was inscrutable.

"You," I croaked. "You betrayed me. You gave me to the soldiers to be killed so that you could go free."

"Sweet Serene," he crooned, reaching out to stroke my face. I flinched away from his touch. "You were always so loyal to me, my kitten. You used to say that you'd die for me. And you would have, if not for that meddling fool of a knight-"

I gathered all the energy I had left and spat right in his face. "Don't you ever speak of Julien like that!" I raged. "You coward! You traitor! You're not even a man! You're a little worm, wriggling through filth-"

He elbowed me sharply in the stomach, cutting off my words. His eyes were on fire, but they slowly cooled, and he showed his teeth in a wicked smile.

"So that's the way it is, dear one. You are in _love _with this foreigner, this pretty boy who pretends at being a warrior. I hear he has been playing with fire. Someone should stop him before the poor lad gets his fingers burnt." He laughed at the anger on my face and kept talking. "Tell me, Serene, have you given yourself to him yet? Does he think you virtuous and pure? Didn't he think it funny when you didn't bleed for him?"

"He never mentioned it," I said truthfully. "He cares not for such things. That is the nature of true love, Salomet. But of course a bastard like you wouldn't know about that. You've never truly valued for a thing in your life, except for power."

His face darkened. "You're wrong there, sweet Serene. I alone recognized your worth when you were nothing more than a gutter-wench, selling yourself to anyone who came asking. I pulled you from the pit of that miserable existence. I am the one who gave you a reason to live."

"Don't insult me," I snarled. "You gave me nothing. I would far rather have stayed with my mother than ever have gone with you! At least then I could say that I was earning money for a good purpose, however filthy the work."

"Do you want me to hurt you, Serene?" he shouted suddenly. The violence in his voice made me fall silent. My fury had been making me brave, but the truth is that I had forgotten how frightening he was when angry. Additionally, I was in a terrible position to be cursing him.

"Do you want to know what kind of power I have over you?" Salomet continued in a calmer tone of voice. I didn't speak. He unhooked the iron band from around my neck and forcibly turned my head so that I was staring at the cave wall. And what I saw there made my heart turn to water.

He had my Julien! My beloved was lying on his side, unmoving. I could see blood on his face and in his hair. I cried out, my body instinctively struggling to get free and run to him.

Salomet got up and walked over to him, chuckling. He grabbed Julien by the hair and lifted his head up so that I could clearly see his face. There was no mistake; it was him.

"Still alive," the sorcerer said, releasing Julien carelessly. "Although I imagine that he could use some healing, and soon. My boys weren't exactly gentle."

"How did …" I couldn't even finish the sentence. This was like a nightmare, a horrible dream from which I could not escape by waking.

"Oh, he came here looking for you," Salomet replied. "You see, I left him a message telling him where he could find you. What a brave boy your champion is! He even came alone and unarmed, just like I told him to. He offered his life in exchange for yours. Truly, you could not hope to find a more loyal man. I believe his love for you is genuine."

"Julien," I whispered, my gaze fixed on his face. "Julien, why? You should have just left me." I could feel tears filling my eyes, faster than I could blink them away. They ran down my cheek and soaking into the stone.

"Are you regretting your decision to fall in love with him?" Salomet asked. "It hurts, doesn't it, knowing that it's your fault that he's hurt. If only you had kept your distance. If only you had pushed him away."

I met his gaze squarely, all my hatred for him focused in that single stare. "What are you going to do with us?"

He grinned. "Right to the point, eh? Very well, I'll tell you. I am going to give you a choice, sweet Serene. The same choice that I had to make half-a-year ago. Let's see how well you do with it. You see, I am very close to completing the ritual that I need to finalize my power and become ultimate. But that ritual required a blood sacrifice, but not just anyone will do. The victim has to give themselves willingly, otherwise it won't work. Now, I know already that young Ser Julien is more than ready to volunteer his life for yours. But the question is, would you do the same for him? One of you must die, and the other will leave here alive. So, sweet Serene, which is it to be? You, or your lover?"

"Kill me," I said at once, without an ounce of hesitation. I silently apologized to Julien for the pain I knew this decision would cause him. But I could not let him die because of me.

Salomet began to laugh, and chills ran up my spine. "How noble," he said, "but I'm afraid that your answer was irrelevant. I just wished to know which path you would take. I actually require two sacrifices. Willing or no, it makes not a bit of difference."

And then, while I watched in horror, Salomet drew a knife, chanted a spell in the dragon language, and plunged the blade into Julien's heart. Blood - terrible amounts of bright crimson blood - gushed from the wound. I screamed, but no sound came out. I was beyond sadness, beyond anger, beyond pain. The only thing I could feel was disbelief.

_No, no, no … _it was like a mantra in my head, an endless repetition. _This cannot be real. Julien can't be dead. _

I felt a pressure building up inside of me, swelling and growing until I was sure I must burst. My skin was tingling with it: a vast amount of raw power, more than anything I had felt before. It hurtled outwards in a great shockwave, snapping the iron bands that held me down and extinguishing all the candle flames. I heard Salomet shriek once, an awful, tortured sound that was cut off by a deafening roar. And then, there was only silence.

I sat up. Surprisingly, I didn't feel weak or exhausted at all. In fact, I had never felt stronger in my life. It was as though every inch of my skin was charged with electricity.

I looked around for my beloved, sure that he would still be clinging to life, and that I would run to him and pour my healing magic into his veins, and he would recover.

But the next moment, I felt as if Salomet's knife had been driven through my own heart.

Of Julien and of Salomet, nothing remained but two pitiful piles of bleached white bones.

_(Julien's POV)_

My lungs were burning for want of air, but I could not stop running. I had discarded my weapon long ago; it only slowed me down, and speed was of the essence. My entire life had become devoted to one purpose only: reach the Arisen.

After the Dragon's appearance, there had been an eruption of magical light from the top of the fortress. It had gone on and on, and the deep voice of Beast himself was ringing in our ears, and then everything had collapsed. I was struck on the head by a stone flying forth from the ruin, and had temporarily blacked out, and when I came to my senses, I was informed that the Arisen was alive and unharmed, and that he had gone on alone (except for his pawns, of course) onto the Twisted Mount to challenge the Dragon.

But only I knew that his Duchess was not safe and sound at the second sanctuary as he supposed. Only I could warn him, if I could reach him in time. Please don't think me callus or cold-hearted: my heart and soul were aching for news of Sophie, but I could not fail the man who had done so much for me. Not in this crucial moment. I knew my darling would understand. Besides, I had complete confidence in her ability to care for herself.

I paused a brief moment to catch my breath and ran onwards.

**Okay, if you were confused by the ending of this chapter, just hang in there. I promise that I have an explanation that will make perfect sense! And you won't have to wait for it very long. Hope you enjoyed reading! **


	13. We Kill Ourselves in the End

Chapter Twelve: We Kill Ourselves in the End

**Well, my faithful readers, I broke my previous record for longest chapter! This is now officially the longest. I hope that that will make some reparations for the wait time. The truth is that I have been extremely busy for the last week or so, and have had almost no time to write. I hope I can be forgiven for this lapse. But now we continue the tale of Sophie and Julien ... coming close to the end, but not there yet. So enjoy, and please let me know what you think. I have yet to receive any suggestions of improvement. Can this possibly mean that there is none to be had? I'm not egotistical enough to think that ... :D**

_(Sophie's POV)_

As I stared in speechless horror at the bones of the man I had loved more than anything else in this world, I was filled with a despair and self-loathing unlike aught I had ever felt before. For I knew that, although Salomet had killed Julien, it was I who had lost control of my power and destroyed any possibility for him to be revived. I snatched up the curved knife that was lying nearby and held the wicked edge to my bare throat with trembling hands, ready with all my heart to drag it across my flesh and spill all my lifeblood out onto the floor.

What stopped me was the cry of a child. I heard it not with my ears, but with my soul. It came from inside me. In that moment, as incredible as it may seem, I knew that I bore within me a new life. A life which Julien and I had made together from our love. A life which I was now bound to protect and nurture, no matter my own desires. This, and nothing else, stayed my hand.

I took up Julien's skull and pressed it to my chest, and lost myself in sorrow for a long time. It was the only grieving I would allow myself to do, for after this, I was determined that I would live only for our child.

When I had wept until my eyes were dry and swollen, I dug a shallow grave and buried Julien's bones - all except one of his fingers. You may think this morbid of me, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving all of him behind. I needed _something_ to carry with me.

Salomet's bones I smashed with a rock and threw out for the animals to gnaw on. It did not bring me joy to do so, but it did ease a little of the burning in my chest. Upon coming back into the cave, I noticed a thick golden ring with a red, jewel-like scale set deep in it, and a dragon-wing pattern carved upon the surface. It must have belonged to Salomet. Figuring that it was probably a valuable magical item, I pocketed it.

Then, feeling as if I had aged a hundred years, I set myself to walk back to the encampment. A great column of black smoke still rose in the air above the Greatwall, but the sounds of battle no longer rang out.

As I entered the ruined gate, a soldier ran towards me. "Lady Sophie!" he cried out. "Where are the rest of the refugees?"

Ah. I cursed myself for letting the people for whom I was responsible slip completely from my mind.

"I know not," I said, and my voice came out as a harsh croak. "We were attacked. I was taken away from the others. I escaped and came straight back here. I have not seen them."

The soldier furrowed his brow and opened his mouth, perhaps to rebuke me, but he seemed to think better of it when he beheld my sorry condition. "My lady, you should lay down and rest a while. You look done in." Then, with a kind smile, he added, "Ser Julien should be returning soon."

The mention of his name was like a fresh knife in my heart. "Julien is dead," I rasped.

"What!" the man exclaimed. "That cannot be, my lady! He followed the Arisen onto the Tainted Mount not half-an-hour ago. I saw him with my own eyes. He said he had urgent news for the Arisen that could not wait. But my lady, are you ill? You have gone so pale …"

My head was spinning, and I am afraid that the poor man was obliged to catch me as I staggered and fell. I could not believe it; it could not be true! I had seen him killed before my eyes, _well over an hour ago! _

There were only two possible explanations: either some fiend had taken on Julien's appearance for his own purposes, or Salomet had tricked me. It was not impossible. I knew well the power of his illusionary enchantments. I was just possible that he could have taken an ordinary man and cast a spell over him so that he perfectly resembled Julien, just to manipulate me. And if that was the case, then my Julien might still be alive! It was a fragile and foolish hope, but it was like bread to a starving woman.

In an instant, I gained back all my strength. Grabbing the bewildered soldier, I directed him towards the place by the stream where the refugees had been attacked. Then I rushed off to the gateway that led onto the ruined mountain.

A horrific battle had been fought there, on that poisoned ground. Mangled bodies, both human and monster, lay scattered around, but none of them belonged to Julien. I hurried onwards, doing my best to ignore the slaughter around me. Some of the men were still alive, although just barely, and I stopped to give them just enough healing magic to ease their pain, and reassured them that help would be forthcoming. I felt shame that I did naught more for them, but I was consumed with one overwhelming need: to find my love.

I had just passed the huge corpse of a chimera with jet black fur when I heard a sound that made my hair stand on end: a woman weeping. It was out of place on that wretched battlefield, where the silence should only have been broken by the sounds of men dying, and I could not but feel that it boded ill. I stumbled onwards towards the mournful sound, stumbling over rocks and slipping in fresh blood. Once I fell and cut my hand, but it was only a minor wound; I hardly noticed it.

It seemed to me as though I ran forever, with the mysterious woman's wails always in my ears, but in reality, it cannot have been more than five minutes. At last I rounded a corner and stopped in my tracks as if struck dead.

I had found Julien. I had also found the source of the weeping.

He sat quite still, with his back against a boulder. His eyes were open. His mace lay nearby, splintered and broken; a lake of blood surrounded him, filled with the lifeless forms of many jet-colored saurians. And by his side huddled the Duchess, a tiny and miserable form, clutching his hand.

I tried to take a step forward, but it was as though my feet had suddenly grown roots. "Julien," I whispered.

The Duchess looked up. I do not think she even knew who I was, so distraught was she. "Please!" she cried. "You must help him, please!"

"What happened here?" I demanded.

She told her tale in halting sentences interspersed with gasps for breath. "I was on my way … with the refugees … to the second sanctuary. Then … suddenly I fell asleep! … When I awoke, goblins … were attacking me. … They drove me out into an … enormous cavern … and the _Dragon _was there! It was … huge and horrible and … it asked Ser Gats to … make a choice. Ser Gats would either … offer _me _to it as a … as a _sacrifice _… or fight it. Ser Gats … chose to fight … and told me to run. I did, but … I was attacked by … saurians. I would have been eaten, if it weren't … for this brave knight. He came out of … nowhere and saved me! But …" She burst into another storm of tears and buried her head in her arms.

"But what?" I growled, seizing her shoulder. In my anxiety, I'm afraid I was a little rough; she gasped and shied away from me.

"Sophie …" The whisper was faint and breathless from right beside me. I looked down. Julien's lips were moving ever so slightly.

I knelt immediately and took his face in my hands, stroking his pale cheeks. "I'm here," I said. "Relax, Julien. I'm here with you. All will be fine now." Oh, how badly I wanted it to be true! I would have given anything in the world.

"I'm sorry," he said, with a laugh that sounded painful. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. I wiped it away and shushed him like a small child. Then I began to run my hands over him, searching for the site of his injury. It was nothing obvious; he was too great a knight to be taken down by a frontal strike.

No, the wounds were on his back: great stabs and slashes from vicious saurian spears. The rock behind him was stained dark crimson. The rents in his flesh were terribly deep and must have been excruciating at first, but think he felt very little now. His bright eyes were unfocused, and his pupils drifted around in a very random pattern without truly seeing.

I cradled him in arms. "Stay with me, Julien!" I commanded ineffectively. Turning to the Duchess with a tinge of unfair savagery in my tone, I said, "Go for help, you fool! Sitting here crying like a frightened rabbit will do him no good!" She leapt to her feet with wide eyes, looking as though she had been struck by a sudden bolt of lightning, and tripped away towards the path out. I felt an immediate relief at her going. It was petty and foolish of me, I'm sure, but I could not help blaming her in some part for Julien's current condition. If she had not been so weak as to require his help, he would not now be dying.

Or perhaps if I had stayed with him after all, and not allowed myself to be persuaded from his side by a flattering request. I could have prevented him from chasing after the Arisen - Maker only knew what his reason was - or at least gone with him and kept his back against his enemies.

Up until that point, I had help in my heart a fool's hope that his injuries were not as severe as they looked, and that he would pull through. Now, as I felt his pulse weaken and breathing slow, I knew that the end was near. It was far more painful to have him die like this, slowly bleeding out in my arms while I watched in helpless agony, than it was when I thought him obliterated in a single blast. If only I had my staff! But I had dropped it when the torpor hit me, and although I could cast other magics without it, I found healing spells to be particularly challenging. I could not work up the energy necessary to effect one of this magnitude without a focus.

But I would be damned forever if I did not at least try to save him. I closed my eyes and began to chant, centering the enchantment on his heart. If I could but keep it beating until help arrived.

But my limited skills were not enough. There was nowhere near the power I felt in Salomet's cave, when I released that wave of energy from my body. As deep as my desire to save Julien ran, there was aught lacking. I realized all in a moment what it was: fury. Salomet had taunted and tormented me until my emotions ran wild, and I had lost control.

But that would not work here. I did not need the same results. Now I wanted to heal, not destroy, but it would seem that destruction was what I excelled at. I was unable to do it.

As I laid my head on Julien's chest, drowning in an ocean of sorrow and regret, something fell from my pocket and onto the stone with a sharp, metallic sound. I looked down in wonder. It was the ring which I had found on Salomet's remains. Snatching it up at once, I forced it onto my finger, heedless of whatever consequences were to result from this hasty and desperate action.

I was instantly seized with a vise-like contraction of all the muscles in my body. My lungs could not expand to draw breath. My heart was too constricted to beat. Every joint was locked; I could not coax even a tiny noise from my mouth. The sensation was so terrifying that for one dark moment, I forgot completely about Julien and wished wildly and completely for it to end.

Then, with a massive effort, I took control over my instincts and mentally relaxed. My eyes were frozen open, fixed upon a rather picturesque grouping of vermillion flowers, but I removed my mind from the outside world and dove into a most intense meditation. I allowed myself to think of nothing but easing Julien's pain, repairing his wounded flesh, refilling his depleted veins with that precious substance that he had lost so much of. I went so deep that I felt nothing - which is for the better, since I'm sure the agony inflicted on my body by Salomet's ring was spectacular.

I have no conscious idea how long I sat there, nor do I recall the transition between concentrating and coming back to myself afterwards. I must have fainted, for both Julien and I were found by soldiers returning with the hysterical Duchess. We were unconscious, but alive.

_(Julien's POV)_

I dreamed of Sophie. We were standing on a mountaintop together, watching the sunset stain the snow pink and red. She took my hand in hers, and looked up at me with her beautiful, soft eyes.

"You know I love you truly, Julien?" she said.

I smiled down at her fondly. "I know. I love you as well, Sophie."

"I know. That's why … I must …"

She took a step away, and suddenly the ice beneath her feet was cracking and crumbling, separating from the rest of the mountain. She sank away from me, a curious smile on her face. It was sad, but also relieved. As if she was shedding some great burden.

"No!" I cried, lunging forward, but the tips of my fingers just touched her face before she plummeted down into the black abyss below and was lost to my sight.

I sat bolt up in bed with a piercing cry; a mistake. I shivered violently as my bare skin left the shelter of warm furs and met with the unforgiving northern air. Although it was dark in the tent, a moment of intent listening told me that I was quite alone.

I rose to my feet, stumbling around as I tried to dress myself in a hurry. My body was very stiff and sore, but otherwise fine. My brow creased as I tried to gather my sluggish thoughts … the last thing I remembered was pain, and blood everywhere - a lake of crimson. I had the vague impression that it was _my _blood. But if that was so, then how was I still alive?

Sophie. Of course. She had come to me. She had held me and wept over me as I lay there helpless. There was another woman as well, wailing insensibly - I thought it was the Duchess, but I could not be sure.

But where was my Sophie now? I pushed aside the tent flap and stumbled out. The sun was just about to rise, but there were a number of men moving around the encampment. I grabbed the nearest and demanded, "Where is Lady Sophie?" I fear that I may have frightened him in my disordered intensity. He looked at me as though I was a madman.

"She is … still resting, my Lord," he replied uncertainly. Seeing that this was not enough to satisfy me, he added, "In there," and gestured to a nearby tent.

I rushed into it without bothering to announce myself. The old northern woman, Brynhild, was there, tenderly bathing the face of a woman lying on one of the cots. I frowned. It could not be my Sophie; this woman had pure white hair.

But then Brynhild stood up, and I got a clear view of the woman's face. My heart jumped. It _was _Sophie. But oh! How she'd changed. Although she had lost none of her radiant beauty, her face was that of one who has been through a great trial. She no longer looked like the lost young girl that I had fallen in love with. She was a mature woman, lined with all the burdens of the world. I was seeing Sophie as she would have been naturally in ten years or more.

Slowly, moving as if in a dream, I knelt beside her and reached out to stroke her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open in response to my touch. The emotions that I saw in her eyes as she looked at me then are beyond my power to describe. I can only say that it was as though she was witnessing a miracle. There was awe and joy and relief and perhaps even a touch of fear.

This quickly faded to a quieter look that I was more accustomed to seeing in her. She said, "Julien. I'm glad."

It seemed to me that those two tiny words - 'I'm glad' - said a great deal more than if she'd embarked on a touching speech of how amazed she was to see me alive and well.

I bent to kiss her, saying, "Sophie. My love, how do you feel?"

She took a moment to consider this. I heard a rustle and looked up to see Brynhild stepping stealthily from the tent, evidently wishing to give us our private space.

"I am alright, I think," said my darling at last. "I am very tired. I feel as though I could not even move my little finger!"

"Is there anything you need?" I asked conscientiously.

A smile. "No. You are kind to ask. What of you? No ill feeling?"

I shook my head. "I am perfectly well, but most curious about what has happened. I remember chasing after the Arisen and then … I am under the impression that I was wounded, and that you came to me, but I am not clear on what took place after that."

"You know as much as I do, then," she replied. "I came upon you on the mount, dying after a battle with a group of saurians. I was in despair of your life, and had not the power to heal you, but then I put on the ring, and suddenly I was overflowing with energy. But I suppose that it has taken a bit out of me."

I said nothing about the changes which I had observed to her body. Instead I focused upon the one point of her narrative that I did not fully understand. "Ring? What ring?"

Her face grew suddenly still, her eyes unfocused as if seeing into the past. "Salomet's ring," she murmured.

"You mean Salomet the traitor sorcerer who fled the Duke's court in disgrace?" I asked. "What do you know of him?"

My voice was over loud and sharp, I fear, but I was much taken aback. Sophie just gazed at me with calm eyes and said, "A great deal. I recovered my memory, you see. Salomet was my master before I met you. I served him loyally, but he betrayed me. It is because of him that I was in the state in which you found me. But no more of that; he is dead now, by my own hand. We need not fear any retribution from him or his group."

I got the distinct feeling that there was more to the story than she let on, but again I said nothing. She would tell me more when she was ready. For the moment, I was content to kiss her again and say, "My amazing Sophie."

"You ought to know that that is not my real name," she said primly. "I am … Serene." She said it as though speaking of something poisonous.

"Do you wish me to call you that?" I wanted to know. "Or do you prefer Sophie?"

She looked surprised. "I thought … it does not matter to you?"

"Of course not!" I laughed. "How ridiculous. I shall call you whatever you wish to be called. But Sophie is the name of the girl that I love dearer than my own life," I added.

"Then I shall keep it," said she. "I would not like to disappoint you." But her eyes were smiling.

We talked for a little while of simple matters, mostly filling in the missing pieces in our respective stories. Sophie was quite eager to hear all about the siege of Greatwall, and the subsequent battle, in which I tried honestly not to exaggerate my part. I apologized once more for neglecting her in favor of saving the Arisen's beloved, and she forgave me freely, saying that she would have expected no less from her knight.

Then, as is natural, I pressed her for her side of the story, which she told in short, blank sentences. Again, I had the idea that much was omitted. But even what she did say made me tremble with rage against this man Salomet, and wish that I knew spells of revival so that I could have the pleasure of murdering him all over again in the most brutal way possible. That anyone should have a heart cruel enough to treat my Sophie so is a tragic thing for the world.

At last we had cleared our minds and were able to sit in silence, enjoying the simple contact of our hands and eyes. Then the babe Elfryk raised his little voice in a hearty bawl from somewhere outside. It had an extraordinary effect on Sophie. She blushed quite red, and her free hand flew to her own stomach. I raised my eyebrows.

"Julien …" she began hesitantly. "I have something to tell you."

"You have a pain in your belly," I hazarded.

"A slight one, but that's not-"

"You wish to be with me forever."

"No. I mean, yes I do, but I wasn't-"

"You have gained some unexpected weight and you are wondering if I mind. I do not."

She glared at me. "Now you are being deliberately foolish!"

I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. "I beg your pardon." For some reason I could not identify, I was feeling slightly unnerved. But I made an effort to pull myself together, realized that it would do Sophie no good were I to fly into hysterics.

"I … I … I am with child," she said softly.

There was a long moment of stunned silence on my part. My brain was completely incapable of processing the information. I said stupidly, "You are going to have a child?"

"_We _are going to have a child," she corrected, looking mildly irritated. "Julien, it is your child. Yours and mine."

"A child," I repeated, with as much wonder as though I was speaking of some mythical creature. Then, "Are you sure?"

She blushed, looked away, and nodded. "I am sure."

"H-how?"

"I just am. Oh, if you _must _know, I had a sort of vision. After I destroyed Salomet. I was thinking of ending my own life, and I suddenly heard the cry of a babe. It came from me! From inside me, I mean. I knew then." A moment later, she added anxiously, "You are not … upset, are you?"

I was stupefied, confused, terrified, and bewildered all at once but I felt that it would better not to say so. Instead, I glared at her accusingly and said, "You were going to kill yourself? Why?"

She sighed, and I surmised that this was something she had not intended for me to know. "I thought you were dead," she said. "Salomet tricked me, and I fell for it. I did not feel that my life was worth living if you were not in it."

Everything I could think of to say in response felt cheap and lecturing, so I just swept her into my arms and pressed my face against hers. She relaxed in my grip, and I believe that she understood what was going through my mind - how I was horrified and touched and amazed all at once.

"Sophie," I whispered into her perfect, shell-shaped ear.

"Yes, Julien?"

"Never leave me. Be with me always."

I could feel her cheek move against mine as she smiled. "I will. I promise I will."


	14. This World Had Changed

Chapter Thirteen: Something Told Me That This World Had Changed

**Ooo-kay, bit of a delay there. Sorry. I got a new part-time job, so I've been very busy. Also, only one person reviewed the last chapter! I don't want to sound ungrateful - one is better than none, after all - but naturally the more feedback I receive, the more encouragement to write I feel. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. This story should be finished pretty soon, but as I've said before, I intend to do some editing and polishing and revising and adding of new content. So if you have any suggestions for what I should put in, let me know! **

(Sophie's POV)

I put up a brave front when I delivered the news of my pregnancy to Julien, but inwardly I was very afraid. Afraid that he would abandon me, as my father had abandoned my mother before I was born. Afraid that he would no longer love or desire me. Afraid that he would not care for the idea of parenthood.

My fears were allayed as soon as the truth had sunk in. He asked me a dozen questions, all about how I was feeling and what he could do to make me comfortable. There was a certain look of naïve excitement in his eyes that I found irresistibly appealing.

"You truly do not mind?" I asked him. "I know that it is sudden."

He thought for a minute before answering, and I knew that he wanted to be honest and fair to me at the same time. "I am utterly taken aback," he admitted. "I never expected this. And I confess that a small part of me would wish for more time to be carefree and irresponsible in your company. But I love you truly, Sophie, and I know that I shall love our child, whatever the cost he may have upon our lives." He stopped there, and a cloud covered his face. "I am sorry … I assumed as a matter of habit that it would be a boy. But I almost hope that it is not. I'm not sure that I could do well at raising my son to be a warrior, and watching him ride into battle."

I laughed. "My poor Julien, how innocent you are! Children do not always bend to their parents' expectations of them! Suppose that we were to have a boy, and he was only interested in composing poetry? Or suppose that our daughter wished to be a knight? What would you do then?"

He had been frowning at first, but then he saw the amusing side of it, and laughed with me. He said, "I had not thought of it that way. When I was growing up, there was never any doubt as to what I would be. It never crossed my mind to be unhappy with my father's decision because his authority was absolute. He always told me that he did not train me to be a knight … I was _born _a knight."

"I believe you were," said I, and kissed his fondly. Then, realizing that my throat was terribly dry, I asked him for the kindness of fetching me a cup of water from the spring. He left at once and returned promptly with the expected item, and an offering of nourishing soup besides.

"Sophie," he said after I was finished eating. "May I ask you a favor? Feel free to deny me if you do not like the idea."

"What is it?" I queried curiously.

"If … if the babe is male … I would like … it would please me to name him Rycard, after my brother. If you do not object …"

"I think it a wonderful idea," I said warmly. "As long as you have nothing against the name Serene if we have a girl-child. You may think it an odd choice," I added hastily, "but I feel as if I am a different person from that little waif long ago who shared my name. I have this idea, misguided no doubt, that the babe I am bringing into the world will give that lost waif a second chance at life." I sighed. "Laying it out in that way makes it seem absurd, I do admit, but-"

"Beloved Sophie," interrupted Julien with a smile, "If it gives you joy, I have no complaint to make."

And that was the end of our discussion of names.

For the next few days, while we made ready to return to the capitol, Julien treated me as if I was make of glass and might shatter at the slightest stress. At first I thought it sweet and adorable. Then I became amused by his deference. At last, when he refused to share my bed in case he should hurt me or the unborn babe, I resorted to a scolding about the difference between kindness and patronization. After that, he was not as careful with me.

The return journey was vastly different from the one we had made as hunted fugitives to get to the Greatwall. We rode through the center of the Duke's Pass in the company of the Arisen, the Duchess, and approximately twenty soldiers. We were well-provisioned and comfortably camped at night. Indeed my heart was content, except for a small grief that I felt at leaving behind my friends from the north.

As for Julien, I had, since our departure, detected in his manner a strange reserve - not towards me, in particular, but to the world in general. He was reticent and inclined to be moody. He took every opportunity to ride ahead on scouting missions unaccompanied. He did not in way fail in his duties towards me, but these were performed in a somewhat mindless manner. For the first time in a while, I was not the main focus of his attention.

I cannot pretend that it didn't rankle. I understood, of course, that his mind was occupied with more serious matters. Even so, I missed his warm companionship. When I told him so, he apologized handsomely and spent a painful evening trying to entertain me an in earnest but nonetheless half-hearted way.

"What troubles you, Julien?" I asked at last, when we had a moment to ourselves in our tent after the sun had set and the camp was abed.

He had been staring into space and jumped slightly at my interruption. "Say again?"

"You are obviously under some burden. I wish to know what it is, and if I can do anything to alleviate it."

He smiled wistfully and cradled my cheek in his hand. "You are sweet, my Sophie. No, there is nothing you can do, I think. I …" He paused and sighed, looking wholly disconsolate. I felt my heart cracking.

"I am worried," he said finally, in a soft voice.

"What about?"

"You," he said without preamble. "I know not the situation at the capitol. I am reflecting that it were better to send you back to Greatwall now, and send for you later when my position is secured."

"No!" I protested, rather loudly. He gave me a warning frown, and I took a few breaths to calm my rapidly beating heart. "Please, don't send me away," I finished. "Remember what happened last time."

His eyebrows drew up in the center. "Oh Sophie! Do not think of it so, I beg you! I want to _protect _you! How could I bear it if …" He swallowed and touched my stomach with tender fingers. "And especially now."

I was moved, I admit, but I remained stubborn. "I will not go, Julien. If you plead with me, I will ignore you. If you command me, I will refuse. If you tie me up and send me with an armed escort, I will escape and follow you by any means possible."

Julien sighed deeply - a sigh of defeat and resignation. "You are an impossible, hard-headed, foolish girl. You think not of consequences."

"And you are a difficult, hard-hearted, foolish man who thinks not of others' feelings, only his own!" I countered hotly. "You would have me weep in solitude so that your own mind can be at ease."

A moment later, I let out an involuntary gasp as he seized me by the shoulders and dragged me close to him. His grip was strong, and I could not restrain a slight wince. His face very close to mine, he said forcefully, "No, Sophie, I would have you _live!_"

There was such fear in his eyes as I had never seen before. I felt the curtain slipping away from my vision, and I could at last see clearly. He was terrified of losing me. My mistake had been to assume in my heart that the most passionate feelings were on my side - that he could not possibly love me as much as I loved him.

I kissed and soothed him, whispering over and over again that I would never allow myself to die when it would cause him so much pain. "Trust me," I murmured. "Believe in me."

Oh, the foolish things we say when we are young and in love! To think that I in all honesty thought that I had some control over life and death, that I could order it as I would. I know better now …

(Julien's POV)

The closer we drew to Gran Soren, the more I became consumed with dread. I _knew _that I had made a grave error in bringing Sophie with me, but I could not now rectify it. Her wholehearted refusal to listen to reason frustrated me, but I could not deny her. And, as much as I despise myself for it, my own heart was weak. The thought of parting from her, even for a short while and for her own safety, caused me great suffering. I could not envision going through my day without her sweet presence at my side, without hearing her voice and seeing her face and knowing that she was alive and well. And so, against my better judgment, I allowed her to stay.

For despite all we had been through, our troubles were far from spent. I knew as soon as we were within ten miles of the capital that some evil had befallen the city. The sky displayed a sickly pallor, and the winds were bitter and hot. We were assailed by strange beasts like and yet unlike those that I was accustomed to: great black wolves that spat fire from their mouths, enormous harpies with the wings of a bat, and undead corpses that rose from the ground and towered above even the tallest of our company.

We would never have made it to our destination alive if it were not for the courage and strength of the Arisen and his faithful pawns. Time and time again, he led an assault against the foul creatures that plagued our steps. I am afraid that I was of little use to him; my main concern was for Sophie's safety. I dared not leave her side even for an instant, lest she be struck down by a chance attack. Ser Gats, seeing where my allegiances lay, tactfully appointed me as defender of the Duchess as well, so that I would have an excuse to stay by both women.

All those last few miles, I had been preparing myself for what lay ahead, but it was worse than I could ever have imagined. The great city lay in ruins, its walls and buildings crumbled by a force greater than can be imagined. Half of it had sunk into the sea; the other half was blackened by the smoke from many fires. The sky above it was thick with swirling smoke that circled endlessly above the epicenter of the disaster.

Two soldiers were standing guard by the gate when our party rode up the causeway. I recognized one of them as Ser Alek, a rather idealistic young knight that I had given some thought to recruiting for my own purposes. The other I did not know. As we approached, I was seized with a sudden paranoia that Ser Alek would notice me and call the alarm. I averted my face and drifted to the back of the group. Fortunately, he was too stricken by recent events to pay much attention to a man in plain unmarked armor, familiar though his face may be. He spoke a few words to the Arisen, informing him that the Duke's Demesne had been completely isolated by the collapse of the inner wall, and begging him to attempt an entry to see what had become of the court.

Gats departed with half of our escort to see what could be done. I, with Sophie and the Duchess in my care, led the rest to the inn, which remained mercifully intact, although it perched on the edge of a yawning pit that had opening in the center of the marketplace. I stood tentatively on the very lip of the wound and stared down into it, but I could see nothing but strange greenish light descending to endless depths.

The residents of Gran Soren were in a stand of blind shock over the devastation of their homes, but life must go on and it did. Everywhere I looked, I beheld testaments of the stoic bravery of the peasants. Children played undeterred in the wreckage. Men and women alike toiled ceaselessly to clear the streets and tend to the wounded and helpless. Merchants continued to peddle their goods - some of them generously, while others, lacking the scruples of their better fellows, took advantage of the crisis to make an obscene profit off of the desperate citizens. I observed one man refusing to sell bread to a young girl with a baby in her arms because she had not the coin to match his exorbitant price. The sight angered me beyond reason and I would have gladly beaten him to within an inch of his life for his cruelty, but Sophie interfered. She did not, I think, want me to make myself conspicuous. She bought the bread for the girl, as well as a few other small items. Afterwards, out of her sight, I had a word with the merchant - that is to say, I threatened him with graphic punishments should I catch him extorting money from the poor again. No doubt it was not very intelligent of me, but my sense of honor would not be appeased until I felt I had meted out justice. Anyway, the man turned very white and I saw him leaving town soon after. I can only hope that he met with misfortune along the road. The world is better off without his kind.

I had just seen the women settled safely at the inn when I heard shouting from outside, accompanied by the deafening sound of multiple pairs of steel boots pounding on cobblestones. My curiosity stirred, I stepped outside.

I could hardly believe my eyes. The Arisen came sprinting towards me, his eyes wide and a look of shock and surprise on his face. In pursuit were the full force of the Duke's guard, their weapons drawn. Ser Maximillian was in the lead, his face a mask of pure fury.

"Coward!" he cried. "Stand and fight, you dog!"

The Arisen was forced to a skidding halt by the great crater in the center of the city. He back up to the very edge, looking around for any way of escape. I watched on in amazement, wondering what Ser Gats could possibly have done to incur the wrath of the Duke.

"Get him, men!" cried Ser Max. "Don't hold back! If he resists, kill him where he stands!"

"Stop!" shrieked a shrill voice from behind me. The Duchess ran past me, her pale hair loose about her shoulders and tossing in the wind. Her face was very white and set as she came to stand beside her champion.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded regally, drawing herself up to her full height (which - considering the frailness of her body - was not a very impressive picture).

Ser Max was evidently astounded, but he concealed it well. "Move aside, my lady," he said, pointing the tip of his sword at the Arisen's heaving breast. "Do not waste your breath to defend this traitor, the man who allied himself with the cursed Dragon itself and cast an evil spell upon your own husband to give him the form of an old and enfeebled man."

"That is a lie!" cried the poor girl, twin spots of color burning in her cheeks. "Who told you this falsehood? I, Aelinore your Duchess, say that it is not true! Ser Gats fought the Dragon and defeated it. I was witness to this."

Ser Max sighed and shook his head. "Has his wicked magic clouded your sight as well, my lady? I say to you, stand aside! This man is a traitor and a trickster, and he must be arrested - or killed, if that is what it comes to."

I could stand no more of this. Striding forward, I placed myself beside the Duchess and crossed my arms. "It is _you _who are deceived, Maximillian!" I declared loudly. "You and all others who pledge yourselves to that false Duke. I know the reality behind his acts - I know the man he truly is. Has it never occurred to you that he has been a young man for longer than your parents have been alive? His immortality was the Dragon's gift, bought at the price of the woman he loved. And now you would cast down this land's true hero and only hope? Do not succumb to folly, Ser!"

Max sneered, "I am I to believe the word of a man who played the loyal knight while he consorted with our bitterest enemies behind our backs? You are no better than this mock legend you protect, Julien! I will deal with you later. Now, for the last time, _stand aside - _before I assume that you have both lost your minds."

But I refused to move. Even were my life to end now, I would not desert the man to whom I owed everything. I saw Sophie take a step forward, her face twisted in horror, but I shook my head at her. There was no sense in both of us dying. She fell back, but I saw her hand clench upon her staff, and I knew that she would not let me be killed easily.

Ser Max shook his head, honest regret upon his face, and lifted his sword to order his knights to charge. I drew in a deep breath and stepped in front of the Duchess. She at least would not perish, if I had any strength left in my body to fight.

But then, out of the crowd, first one and then more and more people came to stand with us against the Duke's men. Some of them I recognized: Fournival and Mountebank and Mason and Asalam from the inn and Barnaby the head of the Pawn Guild. Ser Robert, who commanded the garrison at the Shadow Fort came forth, and the priests from the high chapel, and Ser Mercedes. I glanced nervously at her in particular, but if she noticed me she did not react.

There were others that I knew less well: the blonde woman who I had bought information from, a short brown-haired man who I had seen selling his wares in the marketplace, a gardener from the demesne who had been in prison with me, and a large number of the common folk from about the city. At first I was rather amazed, but then I realized that all of these people, including me, had one thing in common: all of us were indebted to the Arisen in one way or another.

Faced with this overwhelming silent protest, Ser Maximillian was powerless. The sword dropped from his hand and his mouth hung open as he stared speechlessly at the gathering ensemble. At last he shrugged helplessly and said, "This whole city must be mad to defy justice in this way. I have never before seen such a complete act of defiance against his Grace the Duke. What do you all mean by this? Is this a declaration of war?" But his words were weak and impotent, as if he were already aware of his defeat.

The Duchess lifted up her small, proud head, and spoke. Her voice carried clearly to every ear in the square. "No," she said. "This is a declaration of _peace_."


	15. The Hourglass Inside

Chapter Thirteen: The Hourglass Inside

**I find it ironic that this should be the 13th chapter, since it is probably the most depressing one in the story. Just a warning for all those about to read: this part deals with some very difficult themes. I can't say exactly what for fear of spoilers, but if you are at all sensitive, proceed with caution. Hopefully there's some good stuff in here too, and I promise that it can only get better from here. Thanks for reading, and my deepest gratitude - as always - to those who grace my story with a review! **

_(Sophie's POV)_

Months passed by in good time, and many changes occurred in Gran Soren, but they did not touch Julien and I. We lived in our own world, separate from the troubles of those in power. We rented a cottage down in the worker's field, and we lived there in happiness, working the land side by side. I wondered sometimes whether a man as proud and fierce as my Julien could ever truly be content with the life of a simple farmer, but he offered no complaint. Indeed, he seemed more at ease. The tension was gone from his face and body, his expressions were now relaxed and amused rather than watchful or wary. He laughed and smiled often.

As for me, I was experiencing difficulty in keeping up with the rapid changes to my body. My stomach swelled with the new life inside. It became steadily harder for me to do the work I was accustomed to, and I found myself inconvenienced with sickness and strange appetites. I fear that sometimes, my discomfort showed through in mild bursts of temper. Julien never said a word against me during those times, and I was always ashamed of myself afterwards.

Perhaps I had better take a moment and impart to you some word of the shifting politics of Gransys at this time. It is not directly important to my own tale, but it has its impact on the world nevertheless.

Following the showing of support that the Arisen received by Gran Soren's citizenry, Maximilian had no choice but to release him. Do to otherwise would have meant a complete revolt, something which - considering the ruin of the city - could ill be afforded.

A court was convened in the old church, and the Duke was marched by force down to attend. Evidence was given and considered by the wisest in the land. This proceeding lasted for many days, and the mood was highly strained on both sides. Fights broke out in the street between those loyal to the old regime, and those who believed in the Arisen. Julien wished to stand for his friend on the podium, but Ser Gats himself argued against it, on the logic that Julien's word may in fact do him more harm than good.

The eventual verdict was this: that the Duke was to be removed from office and exiled to his northern mansions, there to remain under stringent guard until the end of his days - which, quite honestly would not be far off. He had aged ten years times ten, it seemed, since the Dragon's defeat.

The Arisen was pressed to accept the now-available title of Duke and ruler of the land, but he declined. He meant to travel, it seemed, to the frontier lands, and from there to the north, where he hoped to provide some assistance to the beleaguered folk of that war-torn country.

The land was thus left leaderless. Ser Max and Aldous between them shared in the basic duties of command, while a replacement was urgently sought. Many vied for the position, but there was no one who had the legitimacy to rule. I wondered if perhaps Julien might seize his chance and assert himself, but he remained quietly in the background.

Now that I have laid down the bones of past affairs, I can return to my own story. Truly I may say that the recounting of it brings me no pleasure. It is painful in the extreme to remember - and yet … it did happen.

In the third month since our return to Gran Soren, I began to have disturbing dreams. Primarily they were filled with nameless terrors too many to count, but sometimes they would take on a definite form. One night, I was particularly horrified to dream of the bones of Salomet climbing from the sundered earth to seize upon me and bear me to the ground, tearing viciously at my clothes and hair. I screamed and screamed, and woke to find Julien clutching me to his breast in an agony of helpless concern.

It was then that I told him, in between gasping breaths, the full story of my past. His face grew increasingly darker throughout, and by the end he looked positively livid. He struck his clenched fist upon our coverlet and said, "By the Maker's breath, if that cursed man still lived, there would be no power in this world or the next to save him from me." His voice was soft and deadly, and never before had I seen such murderous fury upon a human face. In that moment, I felt almost frightened of this passionate man. Although I knew that his rage was not directed towards me, it was still the burning hatred of the volcano's fire, which scorches all in its path - innocent and guilty alike.

I caught his hand and said, with a note of hysterical pleading in my voice, "Julien, walk with me."

"Now?" he asked, his anger diluted somewhat with surprise.

"Yes, yes … now. I want to get out of here. The air is so close … so heavy. I feel that I shall suffocate if I stay inside a moment longer."

"Then let us waste no time, my love," he said. Sweeping me up in his arms, he walked barefoot out our back door and into the moonlit field. The wheat grass parted silently in front of us in a stiff wind. The night was very clear and bright, and I shivered - not from cold, but from some sudden premonition of evil.

I tilted my head back to rest on Julien's shoulder and stared up into the void of darkness above, punctured by tiny points of light. The moon was quite full. As I gazed at it, a wisp of cloud passed swiftly across the face. At the same moment, some hunting beast in the night made a kill, and the shriek of its prey rang out loud and clear. A shadow fell over my heart. I was reminded then of lines from a poem that I had heard as a child. I spoke them aloud in a hushed voice: "_A sigh, a cry, an endless sound rises from the gloom; and cold death flies on silent wings to drag you to your tomb_."

Julien looked down at me with his lips quirked in a half-smile and quoted back,

"_The silent watchman in the dead of night_

_Protecting us from fury and from fright_

_He lingers there awhile until the light_

_Of morning crests the hill and fades away_

_In graying shadows at the end of day_

_And starry children all come out to play."_

"Are you my silent watchman?" I asked. My words were teasing, but my tone was solemn and serious.

"Of course, my imaginative Sophie," he replied with a jaunty grin. "And soon I shall have a starry child to protect as well." His smile faded, and he said, "Do you trust me to watch over you, my Sophie - you and the little one?"

"Have you any doubt of that?" was my rejoinder.

He did not answer me. Turning, he carried me back inside.

The next morning, I felt that my half-fearful state of the previous night had been naught more than the silly imaginings of a fanciful girl-child. I said so to Julien, and my high-handed tone must have amused him, for he chucked and pinched my cheek, much as if I actually was a child.

"What does my lady desire for her breakfast this morning?" he inquired. "I shall run up and fetch it fresh from the market."

"Really, ought we do indulge like that?" I asked anxiously. "The money …"

Julien waved a dismissive hand. "I will not have my wife go wanting."

The word had slipped out so carelessly that I almost didn't notice it. When I did, I felt rather light-headed. Julien saw my eyes open wide, and stammered nervously, "Sophie, I … pay no mind …"

I smiled weakly at him. "I am weak with hunger," I said. "A warm, sweet plum bun would settle my stomach, I think."

Relief flooded Julien's eyes, and he fairly leapt from our bed. "I shall fetch one immediately!"

After he was gone, I dressed lazily, my thoughts as flurried as a pack of springtime birds. Had he really referred to me as 'my wife'? Had he spoken in jest, or was he serious? I was confused and distressed by my confusion. We had not spoken of anything as definitive as _marriage_. We had been content - at least, _I _had been content - to live in the moment, secure in our love for each other.

But, now that the subject had been broached, I felt almost as if some sacred inner sanctum of our relationship had been violated. That was absurd, of course. I loved Julien, and no other. I loved him wholly and with all my heart. I never imagined that I would stop loving him. So why then did that one word - _wife _- have the power to make me feel faint and sick?

Could it be, I thought suddenly and with a flash of nausea, that my entire heart was _not _devoted to Julien? Could it be that I was still tied to my past, and to that dark mage whose very name made my heart race with terror and excitement. Salomet was vile. I detested him with all my soul. And yet I could not stop dreaming of him. I could not shake him from my thoughts. My dream of the previous night had been horrible, but there were others that left me trembling and damp with sweat when I awoke; dreams of his large hands upon my body and his deep voice shaking me to the core. These dreams disgusted me, and yet there was an element of fascination there that could not be denied. For the bald truth was that I had been Salomet's lover, and my body would not allow me to forget it no matter how much my mind might try.

With this realization, I felt a wave of remorse and self-revulsion. Julien deserved better than I. I was a girl of disreputable past and uncertain future. Hot tears welled in my eyes. I brushed them away, but more came to take their place, and soon I was sobbing uncontrollably into my pillow. What right had I to share a good man's bed when I had given myself freely to someone such as Salomet? What right had I to be loved, when I had been the target of such lust?

"Oh, Maker," I whispered, "if you love me, help me now. Send some guiding light to instruct me in the proper path. I cannot do this alone."

A child's voice split the air in a wild scream, eerily respondent to my pleas for divine counsel. I rushed forth from the house and stopped dead upon the threshold in shock and horror. A young boy, who I thought I recognized as the blacksmith's son, had fallen from a rooftop and was lying with twisted limbs and blood gushing from a wound in his forehead. The pain of a child is no easy sight at any time, but it was double agony for me that that I had a young life of my own to look forward to.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had stumbled to the boy's side and was pressing my hands desperately against his face, muttering the words that would bring healing magic forth to cure those dreadful injuries and make whole again the young flesh.

But instead of soothing softness, I felt a black pit open up in my stomach. I realized then that I had not attempted to use magic since that fateful day when I had spent every last drop of my mystical energy to save Julien's life.

I tried to cease the spell, but the damage was already done. Raw power flowed through me with the force of a river flooding. And indeed there was a flood - of blood, not water, blood from deep inside me that was coursing out onto the grass as I shuddered and wailed in pain, writhing in the wheat.

Dimly, I felt pounding footsteps shaking the ground beneath me. The next moment, Julien was picking me up and cradling me close. I could hear his frantic cries of, "Sophie! Sophie, speak to me!" And then, "Fetch a healer, for the Maker's love! Hurry!"

I tried to open my mouth and reassure him that I was still alive, but a particularly violent tremor ran through my body, and I bit down on my tongue with enough force to tear the skin and send a thin stream of blood from my mouth as well. I grabbed Julien's hand and held on to it as though it were a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman. All the while, he spoke to me in a broken voice, telling me that all would be well and that the healer was coming. I fainted still in his arms, and did not wake fully again for many days.

During that time, I was very ill. I hardly knew what was going on around me. I remember nothing of those evil days, and Julien has been hesitant to mention it. Therefore, I shall let him take over the retelling, so that you may have a clear picture of the miserable state I was in.

_(Julien's POV)_

I have never felt more like a man gone mad than during the three days that my Sophie hovered between life and death. I did not sleep or eat or leave her side even for a moment. I held her hand as she tossed in a fevered dream, and spoke to her until my voice was cracked and hoarse. In her sickness, she called out for her mother, and for me, and sometimes for the bastard sorcerer Salomet. I had to restrain myself when I heard his name upon her lips, for it kindled a terrible ire in my soul, which, if I had allowed to smolder, might have spurred me to acts which I would have deeply regretted once I returned to sanity.

The healer did what she could, and was patient and kind with me, for which I am ever in her debt. A lesser woman would have washed her hands of such a distraught man. I gave her no peace, endlessly demanding when Sophie would be well again, and what she was doing to help her.

Several people attempted to visit and express their well-wishes for Sophie's recovery, but I would allow no one in for fear that it would somehow cause her condition to worsen. By the end of the third day, I was at my wit's end, when I passed into a fitful sleep and woke abruptly to see my darling watching me with weary but alert eyes. I stared back, fearful lest this be a part of my dream.

"Water," she whispered in a voice like the breath from a grave.

I ran to fetch it for her and held it to her lips as she took a single sip. Still I stared in silence, waiting.

"What has happened?" she whispered. It seemed she was not yet strong enough to speak clearly.

"You have been seriously ill," I replied, trying to keep from my tone the immense strain that I had been under. I failed completely - my voice cracked half-way through and tears came to my eyes.

"I remember nothing," she said, and the words struck a chill of disbelieving horror into my heart. Surely she did not mean that her memory had once again failed her … surely she had not forgotten me!

She smiled a ghostly little smile at the expression on my face and said, "Silly boy, I didn't mean _that_. I do not remember these last days. They are dark to me. I recall the young lad who was hurt, and I went to help him, and then …" Her face twisted in a spasm of pain.

"Do not stress yourself," I urged her, holding her hand gently in both of mine. "You are only now beginning to recover. I think …" I paused, unsure of how best to proceed. "I think, Sophie, that it would be better if you did not attempt to use magic in the future. The healer said it was so. She said that the natural channels for magic in your body have been overrun, and that any further usage of it could result in another illness - or even your death. So please …"

Sophie nodded. "I understand, Julien. Fear not." She smiled again. "My poor Julien. How worried you must have been! I really am no end of trouble to you, am I?"

"I am just glad to have you still with me," I said weakly, pressing her hand against my cheek.

"Us," she corrected.

I gazed at her blindly.

"You mean 'us', don't you?" she pressed, her smile faltering a little. "I and the child. How silly, of course you did. Forgive me, Julien, I am not yet in control of myself."

My heart was beating so hard that I thought it was sure to burst. In my exultation to see my angel awake again, I had momentarily forgotten …

_How could I tell her? _

"Julien?" She had noticed my stricken look. "What is it …"

"Sophie … I am sorry …" I could not get the words out. It felt as though a stone was stuck in my throat, blocking all sounds. I choked a little and repeated, "I am so sorry."

"Tell me what happened, Julien!" she demanded fiercely. Her eyes glimmered with alarm.

I began unsteadily, "When you collapsed … you were bleeding terribly. I called for a healer, and … she did all she could … but the child did not survive."


End file.
